Four American Gits and One English Lady
by AerithBlack
Summary: There have been many moments where England has wondered how she got herself into these situations. However, waking up to see four different versions of America looking down at her just takes the cake. On *hiatus* until For Your Entertainment is finished.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, now I know that many of you are probably annoyed about there being a fem!England story, or a story with gender bent characters in general, so before I get flames and possibly some whining/bitching, I'm going to say this now:**

**No, I don't hate yaoi or yuri; in fact, I love reading yaoi, especially of the USUK variety (though I'm starting to prefer England as seme, believe it or not). I'm just more comfortable writing het, at least when sex is involved. (There will be yaoi pairings on the side, just no lemons featuring those couples.) In other words, get over it, and just let me write what I feel comfortable writing.**

**As for why it's England who's gender is bent; well, first of all, I don't think fem!England (or Igiko, or whatever her name is) gets enough love. I see plenty of fem!US (who I do plan to write one day), but not enough stories with fem!England, at least not those where she's paired with America. Then again, perhaps there are, and I've just been looking in the wrong places. Whatever.**

**Second of all, this story will require England to act somewhat feminine, as well as a bit of a shojo character (who will still be Tsundere, don't worry ;D), and since I don't want to be the typical yaoi fangirl and basically make England into a "chick with a dick" (aka an "uber" uke), I might as well just make him into a girl anyway, so I will feel better about myself.**

**Tl;dr If you don't like Nyotalia stories, then feel free not to read this.**

**__****Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Hetalia.**

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**Chapter 1:**

Something small crawled into her bed, and then straddled her stomach. Then, after a few seconds, it started to bounce on her lightly.

"_Come on Engwand,"_ a painfully familiar voice cooed in her ear. _"Wake up."_

The ash-blonde woman moaned softly and turned her head, trying to curl more into her sheets without hurting the child on her.

"_Hey," _the child whined as he bounced some more (probably pouting too, if she knew him as well as she did). _"Engwand, are you ignoring me?"_

She smiled softly and tried her best not to laugh. Yes, she was most certainly aware that this was probably just a dream, a fantasy made up from her precious memories, but she didn't care. She wanted to cherish it while she could before her day started.

"_Is the little lady awake yet?" _Another voice spoke; this time it was unfamiliar, with a thick Southern twang that just confused her.

"_I don't think so…" _The child replied to the voice with confusion.

"_Well, shoot—what're we gonna do now?"_

"_Damn it, just kick her or something!" _A different voice said, sounding exaggeratingly irritated. This one was familiar to the girl's ears, but not in the positive way the child's was.

"_Now, now, Revolutionary, we're not gonna have any of that behavior around a lady."_

"_Yeah, Engwand deserves her sleep, you dumbass jerk—"_

That got her eyes to open wide as she gasped.

"America, who taught you such vulgar—?" England couldn't complete her sentence, the sight before her just pulled all logical thought out of her.

Because, right in front of her were three males who all stared back at her with blank expressions. One was the little boy, who looked about four, who still sat on her stomach, wearing his signature white night gown. On his left stood a teenage boy who scowled back at her, wearing an eighteenth century blue military uniform that caused her heart to clench; on the right of the child stood an older young man donned in his signature glasses, as well as leather clothing that looked like they were pulled out of an old Western film (complete with the brown cowboy hat, as well as the two gun holsters on either side of his hips), smiling back at her with a soft look in his eye. All three of them had sky blue eyes and blonde hair that had a cowlick that just never stayed down.

…_What?_ She stared at the three of them with wide eyes, her heart pounding and her head becoming light. _WHAT?_

Now, just to clarify, there have been many moments that Elizabeth "Lizzie" Kirkland, a.k.a. the personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland has asked herself how she got herself into the type of situations she's landed herself into…

But this…this just took the cake.

The America in his Revolutionary uniform smirked at his two counterparts smugly. "I told you guys she wouldn't take it well."

"Oh, shut yer gab, Rev," the cowboy version of America scowled. "She's just in shock, is all."

"Engwand, are you okay?" Little America asked her, his wide blue eyes full of worry.

As a response, Lizzie's eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she promptly fell back on her pillow, unconscious.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up to the sounds of sniffling, as well as the loud arguing of two males in her room. When she blinked open her eyes, she quickly noticed a much younger America still sitting on her, with his small hands on his face as he sobbed softly.

Feeling that old mother/sisterly instinct for a baby America, Elizabeth immediately sat up and cradled the child against her chest, running her hand gently through his hair. The young boy squeaked at the contact and he picked his head up to stare up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"What's the matter, love," she asked softly. "Did something happen?"

Little America smiled and sniffled, and then he wrapped his arms around her neck and smiled into her shoulder.

"Yay, you're awake, Iggy! I was worried that you were hurt or something," he cried out happily.

Despite the fact that he was calling her that dreaded nickname (_Sometimes, Japan, I really don't like you…_), Elizabeth found herself smiling softly as she hugged him back. She really missed this…

"…What do you mean, you're in charge?"

…_Huh?_ Lizzie opened her eyes to see the other two Americas in front of her bed, glaring at each other as they argued with one another, and she stiffened.

"That's what Officer said, and what the sheriff says goes," the Cowboy version said sternly.

"Aw, come on! I should totally outrank the two of you, I came first," the Revolutionary version yelled back.

"Nu-uh, Chibimerica came first! And you don't see him complaining, now do ya…!"

"Please, the midget wouldn't complain if we were to leave him in the street; he's just that blind to reality."

That last comment caused Chibimerica to briefly let go of her as he turned around and glared at his older counterpart.

"I'd rather be a midget than a whining punk," he retorted.

Revolutionary's hair stood on end as his blue eyes lit up in fury, and he snarled, "What'd you say, you little brat?"

Chibimerica smirked in a way that caused Elizabeth to gape (_I don't remember teaching him that…_). "You heard me, Rev."

"Oh, that's it—"

However, before Revolutionary could take step forward—and before Cowboy could intervene and possibly instigate a more physical fight between the two of them—a sharp sound pierced the air:

_Tweet!_

Elizabeth blinked out of her reverie—she had gone into shock again—and directed her gaze toward her doorway, and, as her green eyes widened, her heart began to pound almost painfully.

Standing there in her door was a tall, muscular blonde man wearing an open dark navy bomber jacket that was littered with golden stars on his right arm, one gold badge on his left, and a gold star shaped badge that looked like it had been pinned on. Underneath, he was wearing a plain white business shirt, with a brown tie that had was clipped at the middle. His dark blue jeans, which aided in accentuating his muscular legs, were held up by a sleek black belt that had a leather holster on the left, and a pair of silver handcuffs hanging from a belt loop on his right, and tucked inside a pair of Timberlands. Tied around, and placed behind his neck was a leather hat that was slightly smaller than Cowboy!America's, but in a darker shade.

As he removed the silver whistle from his mouth, but still held it in his gloved hands, he stepped inside the room and regarded the three other Americas with an unyielding blue gaze that, even from behind the pair of wire frame glasses he wore, still managed to make him look more powerful and intimidating.

But what did it for Elizabeth was his voice:

"I thought I told y'all not to cause any ruckus while I was away," he spoke to his three counterparts—mostly glaring pointedly at Cowboy and Revolutionary—in a drawl that was undeniably native to Texas.

"Sorry, sir," Cowboy removed his hat and lowered his gaze guiltily, while Revolutionary crossed his arms with a snort and turned away. Surprisingly, Chibimerica seemed to be the only one who regarded the man positively, if his small grin was any indication.

Meanwhile, Lizzie stared at the man with her jaw dropped and her face bright red.

_Oh my God. _She put her hand over her thumping heart and swallowed harshly, trying to get back the moisture in her dry throat.

"A-Alfred…?" Lizzie spoke timidly, her old colony's human name slipping out in her disbelief.

The man glanced at her, and his frown changed into a small, gentle smile that made the Brit melt inside. (_Not because it makes him look handsome enough for me to want to kiss him…or anything like that! Only because…because…blimey, I can't think of a good excuse…_)

"That's Officer Jones to you, ma'am," he winked as he gave her a mock salute with two fingers, "At your service."

_Oh. My. GOD!_

Chibimerica looked up at her with concern. "Iggy, are you okay? You're all red…"

"…I'm fine," she squeaked, and then quickly tried to cover it with a cough and a smile. "I-it's just…hot in here, that's all."

As if to emphasize her point, Lizzie began to fan herself furiously, trying to look anywhere but at "Officer Jones"—who most certainly did _not_ look delicious in his police garb (at least, that's what she told herself…).

Officer Jones observed her reaction with an amused glint in his eye, and he then looked back at Cowboy America.

"Go fix us something, would ya? I think Miss Kirkland and I need to have a little chat in order to clear up some things."

Cowboy America scowled slightly, his eyebrow quirking in suspicion—but the light sparkle in his eye indicated something different.

"A 'chat', huh?" He drawled.

Officer Jones rolled his eyes and pointed out the door with his thumb. "Just git goin'."

"Fine, whatever ya say, Sheriff." Cowboy placed his hat back on his head and grinned at the still scowling Revolutionary. "C'mon, boy; y're gonna help."

"What—? Hey!" Rev growled as he was pulled away by his collar.

Chibimerica eagerly bounced off the bed and ran to Officer Jones, beaming up at him in admiration.

"Can I help, too?" He asked, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

"…Fine." The policeman smiled softly and kneeled down so he was more level with the child. "But don't make a mess, y'hear."

"Yes, sir!" Chibimerica flushed adorably as he saluted, and then he ran out of the room to join the others—

—Leaving Lizzie alone with the enigmatic Officer Jones.

She gulped and reluctantly directed her gaze at the man who looked so much like the America she had come to know; a more serious, disciplinary America that would probably make Russia uneasy with his out of character attitude. Seriously, he probably wouldn't have affected her so much if he actually _acted_ like her America, but—

He returned her incredulous stare with a soft smile, and then he stepped forward to sit down in the chair by her bed.

"I'm guessin' ya got a lot of questions for me," he said gently.

…_Oh, right._ Lizzie's previous panic and confusion returned, but she quickly hid it behind a glare (or at least tried to).

"What the bloody hell is going on?" She demanded, her words spilling out without a second thought. "Why do you all look like America? Where did you come from? Is this some weird prank, or am I dreaming? Why do you all look like America—?"

A leather donned finger was quickly placed on her lips, silencing her immediately.

"Jeez, England," he chuckled. "Try to get a breath in, why don't ya?"

Lizzie blushed and pushed his hand away with a scowl, but did as he advised, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

"What is going on?" She asked again, feeling slightly calmer.

"See, now that's better," Officer Jones smiled, and he sat back in thought. "As for the answer, the best theory I can come up with is that, well—you summoned us, Lizzie."

Beat.

"…What."

"Okay, I know that look, but hear me out." As his smile widened, he put his hands up in defense. "See, this is what I figure happened: for years, Lizzie, you've been feeling lonely and rejected by the real America—and don't you look at me like that, you know I'm right (_Lizzie blushed_). As a result, you've been building up a subconscious image of America that is based on your memories, as well as wishes pertaining to America. Those subconscious images began to culminate as the years went on, until something—whether it's that magic crap you dabble in or whatever—caused these subconscious desires to be personified."

Lizzie blinked and shook her head slightly. "What?"

"Think about it, the guys and I represent a part of America you admire, and/or desire to see," Officer Jones began to explain, holding up three fingers.

"Chibimerica—the more obvious one—represents your nostalgia for the past, when you raised and loved America as your own.

"Revolutionary America—also obvious—represents your confusion and continuing insecurities concerning the reasoning behind the Revolutionary War.

"And Cowboy America represents your curiosity of how America lived out his life afterwards, as well as other emotions you could be suppressing…"

Elizabeth sat back against her pillows and hummed in thought. "I guess that makes sense, at least somewhat."

_But, still, is that even possible? I'll have to ask the Fae to double-check…._

Before she could contemplate it any further, Lizzie noticed that he was nearly out of the room, and another question immediately sprung to her mind.

"Wait!"

Officer Jones paused in the doorway and turned to look back at her.

"W-what do you represent?" She asked, blushing slightly.

He blinked for a beat, and then hummed thoughtfully. Then he scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly sheepish.

"That's a good question, actually," he mused out loud.

Then, after a pause, the man smirked slyly at Lizzie (_In a way that did NOT make shivers go down my spine, just to let you know!)_, and then he shrugged nonchalantly:

"Perhaps you secretly have a thing for man in uniform."

As if England's face couldn't get any redder, another dark hued blush flowed up her neck, as she sputtered indignantly, in a way that definitely wasn't proper for a lady.

"Y-you git, why I've never—I mean, w-what—_how dare you?_"

Just as she picked up a pillow to throw at him, Officer Jones quickly winked and closed the door, allowing the mahogany wood to take the hit for him.

* * *

**Huh, that's weird. While I was typing this, I planned for Cowboy!America to be the one to make England speechless...**

**Ah, well. Tell me what you think. Though I will not prohibit flames, please try to be constructive, at least.**


	2. First Kiss

**A/N: Heh, lol. Would you believe that as I was typing this up, I was listening to "It's Raining Men", by Weather Girls? XD**

**Anyway, as for the plot itself…well, this kinda doesn't have one, at least not until the Real America shows up. ^^; And if it feels as if nothing here makes sense, then trust me, that's sort of what I intended. This was sort of supposed to be a fill for a prompt on the kink meme, BUT I don't think it fits with the person's requirements—so I just decided to write it for shits and giggles, just to see if I could.**

**Disclaimer: Same as the first chapter.**

**

* * *

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**Chapter 2: First Kiss**

During the next few weeks that followed things got a bit—for lack of a better word—_awkward_.

If Elizabeth thought that living with one America was difficult the first time around, then it was a bloody disaster with four America "clones" (once again, for lack of a better word) running around her house. Seriously, if it wasn't Cowboy and Revolutionary fighting, then it was Chibimerica crying and keeping her awake so that she could "protect him from the monsters hiding in my closet" (which, admittedly, didn't irritate her that much—but still, Lizzie needed her sleep). Then there was the conflict of hiding the clones from the other nations, especially from the real America himself—with three wild, rambunctious "I-wanna-constantly-get-out-of-the-house-and-do-stuff, Iggy" Americas running around, you can imagine what _that's_ like.

Thank God for Officer Jones, though; if he wasn't there to help keep his counterparts in line, Lizzie would have probably gone insane by now.

—Which brings up the next point, in which there were moments where the _awkwardness_ really began.

The first one had been with, unsurprisingly, Officer Jones:

_Oh, God, Officer Jones_. Though she probably wouldn't admit it out loud, not even under torture, Elizabeth had become rather…enamored with this particular copy of America. However, despite what one might think, it was a fancy that went beyond his innate ability to look dashing in a police uniform (_Though he does look good in it…)_. Though he was a little strict with the rules—with his unruly fellow clones, it's no surprise—he was also unbelievably kind and protective, especially towards Lizzie (but that was neither here nor there). Granted, he wasn't perfect; for one, there was his love for doughnuts that rivaled the regular Alfred's love for hamburgers; two, there were moments where he'd show a mischievous side that was almost perverted (also especially towards Lizzie, but once again, neither here nor there); and three, he also didn't believe in her fairies (however, this didn't really surprise her, so she got over it pretty fast).

It also helped that, well—he was the copy who looked most like the real America. True, the clones all resembled the real America, but Officer Jones had the exact same height, and the exact same build, whereas Cowboy America (possibly the second closest in resembling Alfred) was slightly shorter. Seriously, all he would have to do is sport a brown bomber jacket, be utterly obnoxious, yet still good-hearted all the same, and smile a lot more, and there would be little to no difference between the two. In fact, one might say that Officer Jones is what many probably expected America to become like—because lord knows, Lizzie's seen hints of that same unyielding sense of justice in the young nation many times over the years she's known him, often hidden and/or repressed by that brilliant, albeit oblivious grin and childish hero complex.

Well, that and then there was the fact that they both shared the same super-strength—which Lizzie hadn't realized could be so appealing until she'd seen Officer Jones having a playful wrestling match with Cowboy America (who was also easy on the eyes, but we'll get to him later), just in a white wife beater and jeans, and…

Yeah, as loathed as she was to admit it to herself, England had it bad for Police Officer!America—_so_ bad…so very, _very_ **bad**.

(Ahem.) _Anyway_, the moment in question where this _tension_ culminated had been during the first week of this whole…thing. About five days after waking up to the clones, Lizzie was still sitting on her couch, looking through her spell books in order to try to find a way to return the clones back to where they came from—wherever that was—because she knew that the longer they stayed, the more possible that something _bad_ would happen, which was most likely the real Alfred finding out about them.

_(And if he found out why they exist in the first place…God, the git would never let me live it down…)_

As one might guess, there had been no counter spell or incantation in the book that was for this situation. Bloody hell, there hadn't even been a record of such a happening before—at least, as far as Lizzie knew. She still hadn't gotten any answers from her fairies, who had taken it upon themselves to avoid her at all costs, for some odd reason. (_Not that it hurt my feelings or anything! I just think it's very rude!_)

So, to conclude, by the time midnight had struck, Lizzie was feeling extremely frustrated and tired.

She removed her reading glasses, groaning softly, and put her hand over her weary eyes. _This is impossible…_

"Engwand?"

Her head perked up and she looked to the side to see Chibimerica rubbing one of his dazed eyes with his small fists.

Lizzie smiled softly at the adorable sight. "What is it, love?"

"I can't sleep," he replied, and then he eyed her with concern. "Are you okay?"

Her smile twitched, but remained. "Of course, darling," she spoke warmly as she got up. "Let's get you to bed."

She picked him up and walked slowly up the stairs to the room that was set up for him. (Since the clones had no place to stay, naturally, Lizzie decided to let them stay in the spare rooms.) Once inside, she sat down in the rocking chair by his bed and, as she began to rock herself back and forth, she started to hum an old lullaby she used to sing when America was still her colony.

Around the time Chibimerica started to go lax in her arms, Lizzie was startled by a voice from the doorway:

"I remember that one."

She looked up to see Officer Jones leaning on the door, wearing a black muscle shirt and loose gray pants. He was smiling softly at her, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

As a heated flush rose to her cheeks, Lizzie averted her eyes to focus on a wall.

"Be quiet," she whispered, almost hissing. "He's asleep."

"Sorry," was the chuckled reply.

If it had been anyone else, Lizzie would have glared at the person, and probably hiss out some insult or another—but she didn't dare risk locking eyes with Officer Jones. He was dangerous to look at; looking at him made Lizzie feel things that she, as a proper English lady, shouldn't feel, scandalous feelings that her former Queen Victoria would have given her a harsh scolding for. No, she didn't dare look at him; her bloody virtue was at stake here.

(_As long as I don't look at him, everything will be fine._)

Once Lizzie was certain Chibimerica was sound asleep, she slowly got up and went over to his bed to tuck him in. The little boy smiled and cooed softly, immediately curling in his sheets for further comfort.

Lizzie smiled down at him, feeling both happy and sad at the same time. She was glad that she got to relive her days as her colony's surrogate older sister, but she knew that it couldn't last forever. Eventually, Chibimerica would have to leave. _(Deja vous.)_

"Night mommy, g'night daddy," Chibimerica murmured sleepily.

England blinked; America had never called her mommy before. And who was he calling "daddy"…?

"Huh, that's strange," a familiar voice spoke from right behind her, making Lizzie stiffen.

Against her wishes, her head turned around so she could look up at Officer Jones, who looked down at Chibimerica with his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Then again, it probably makes sense, since you're really the only person we can remember takin' care of us," he suddenly looked at her, as if realizing she was there, then he quickly averted his eyes and scratched the back of his head. "I mean, America definitely had a mother before you came along, but she was long gone before he could remember…"

"O-oh, yeah," Lizzie said lowly. "I think Alfred mentioned her once…"

For a few moments, there was just an awkward silence consisting of the two of them staring at each other. Lizzie had to practically crane her neck to stare up at Officer Jones, since she only reached his chest, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she could think about was the warmth emanating from his body and his beautiful blue eyes, which suddenly darkened with an intensity that made Lizzie shiver. _(W-with fear, FEAR! Not pleasure, or anticipation, or anything like that! Remember, he's _dangerous_…_so_ dangerous…)_ Not taking her eyes off him, she bit her bottom lip, her thoughts beginning to wander. The two of them were so close…

_It would be so simple; all I have to do is reach out and lean up, and then…_

_WAIT._

Lizzie's breath hitched, and then she put her hands on his chest to push him away at arm's length, her eyes clenched shut.

"S-sorry, but…I-I need to get back to work," she squeaked out as she moved around him and practically ran out the door and down the stairs, making sure not to look back at him on the way.

She saw neither the slightly predatory smirk that grew on Officer Jones' face as he stared after her—

—Nor the knowing grin that Chibimerica hid as his body turned to face the wall beside his bed.

* * *

Lizzie slumped on her couch and panted harshly, as if she had run a marathon, her heart pounding so hard it almost hurt. She put a hand over her heaving chest and stared up at the ceiling in confusion. Then, with her face red with mortification, she lay down, grabbed a pillow, and then buried her face in it, whimpering softly.

_Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?_ Elizabeth yelled at herself. Honestly, she wasn't some hormonal schoolgirl; she was a nation. And not just any nation, she was the United bloody Kingdom—if anyone should have complete understanding over the practice of etiquette, as well as chastity, it should be her! Yet, there she was, turned to mush with just one look, by one man who happened to completely resemble her former colony, who she was still quite fond of, despite everything.

_Oh, God, _Alfred_! How can I look him in the eye after this? _Lizzie could just picture the conversation that would occur between them during the next World Meeting:

"Oh, _hello_, America. Lovely day, isn't it? How am I? Just _splendid_; I'm just imagining how nice it would be to kiss your sexy double who dresses up like a police man, as well as do other deeds that would probably make even France blush—and probably throw a bitch fit because he wasn't invited. How's that economy, eh?"

_Yeah, that wouldn't go over well…_

A familiar laugh interrupted her thoughts from going any further, and Lizzie automatically stiffened, not daring to look up from her pillow.

"Yeah, somehow, I highly doubt that would ever happen anyway," Officer Jones chuckled as he leaned on the back of her couch, staring down at her. He smirked, "But ya get brownie points for callin' me sexy."

_Oh, bugger, I said all that out loud, didn't I?_

"Yeah, ya did," he answered for her, grinning as he moved to sit on the other side of the couch, where her head was.

This was really not Lizzie's night.

Her face was bright red as she glared at him. "Why are you still awake? Leave me alone!"

"No can do, Lizzie," he said, winking slyly. "A hero in blue is always vigilant—especially when his damsel is practically workin' herself to death," he added, his eyes softening with concern.

_He called me his damsel_, somewhere deep, deep inside Lizzie's psyche—a place that wasn't repressed with denials—swooned and giggled stupidly, while Lizzie scowled and glared at Officer Jones.

"Well, regardless of what you think, I'm fine." She sat up and turned her head away from him, her nose in the air. "I just have to find out how to get all of you back in my head—or wherever you came from—and then things will be back to normal."

Lizzie then leaned forward to pick up her book from the coffee table, trying to ignore the man. She started turning page after page every few moments; however she wasn't really searching as vigorously as she was previously. She couldn't find it in herself to concentrate, not with Officer Jones' eyes constantly on her. Though his gaze made her blush, it also made her feel insecure and naked in her slightly short skirt and short sleeved blouse.

Lizzie bit her lip nervously, making sure to keep her eyes on her book (even though she didn't read the words). _Why is he looking at me…?_

"You're that eager to get rid of us, huh?"

She paused in her search, and then finally mustered up the courage to look up at him. Surprisingly, Officer Jones looked back at her with a gentle smile that didn't show any signs that his feelings were hurt. Somehow, though, it managed to make Lizzie feel guilty anyway.

"It's not that," she exhaled shakily. "I…I'm just so confused. I mean, I was already confused _(about Alfred) _before, but with you all here…it's even worse. I mean, what do you want from me?" Lizzie looked at him desperately, her green eyes wide and moist, despite herself.

Officer Jones' eyes widened a fraction, and then they softened as he moved and leaned closer to her. With one hand, he reached out and touched her pigtails, holding a few locks of hair between his fingers, and then he looked into her eyes.

"There're a lot of things I want from you." Officer Jones spoke huskily, and, when seeing Lizzie blush brightly, he smiled softly and added, "But right now, I want you to just relax, and stop worryin' so much about it."

"…Oh, u-um, okay." Lizzie swallowed and tried to avert her eyes from his, but found she couldn't.

Officer Jones smiled, and then put an arm around the British girl's shoulders. "I also want ya to stop acting so scared of me all the time. Seriously, I feel as if I'm walkin' on glass around ya."

She glared at him, flushing with embarrassment, and then she turned away, angrily. "I'm not scared."

"Sugar, ya can't even look me in the eye without gettin' all quiet. What's up with that?"

"Please, you already know, you git." _He has to know what he's doing to me…right? He's not oblivious to the atmosphere like Alfred…right?_

"Oh, really?" Officer Jones chuckled and cupped her warm cheek, guiding her so she'd look at him again. He smirked at her stunned and flushed expression, and leaned forward ever-so-slightly.

"Enlighten me, then," he whispered.

He was getting too close again, Lizzie realized as her heart hammered. She inhaled and exhaled shuddering breaths, her throat becoming dry. She was slowly becoming more aware of Officer Jones, of how he breathed lightly on her face, how large he was in comparison to her, how the warmth of his fingers bled through her shirt as he rubbed her shoulders lightly, how close his lips were…

This feeling, it was driving her crazy—God, _he _was driving her crazy. Was this that "sexual tension" Francis often claimed existed whenever she'd argue with Alfred…?

Well, she most certainly did not like it. Not one bit.

So, the question was: How was Lizzie to go about _getting rid of it_?

An idea suddenly sprung to her mind, one that made her heart pound. She gulped and averted her eyes shyly.

"You touching me isn't helping," she said shakily.

"Oh?" The hand that cupped her cheek slowly moved down the side of her neck, the fingers gently caressing the flesh. Lizzie shuddered, and against her better judgment, she leaned into the warm touch, her eyes shutting in bliss.

"You shouldn't be so close, either." Even as she said it, her shaky hands found their way to his shirt, fisting the material and tugging it toward her.

"Really." Officer Jones answered her silent plea by moving his arm from around her shoulders, to down her spine, and then to grasp her slim waist to pull her close. Then he leaned down to whisper against her ear, slyly, "How close is too close, babe?"

(_Tee-hee, he called me babe…Um, w-wait a tic, I mean, how dare he—)_

Lizzie swallowed to hydrate her dry throat, and then she shakily brought her hands up to his shoulders. She turned her head towards his, her lips practically brushing his neck.

"This close," she breathed.

Officer Jones picked his head up and looked into her eyes once more, a silent question in his eyes.

She answered it by closing the distance between them.

Though she often denied having any hint of affection for America (the real one), England secretly had often dreamed of what it would be like to kiss him. _(Only for the sake of curiosity—don't get the wrong idea!)_ However, she had never imagined that his kisses could be quite like _this_:

Officer Jones' lips moved against hers slowly and softly, yet also with a passion that made Elizabeth go weak at the knees. It appealed to her in a way she hadn't felt in centuries, not since the days of Shakespeare and Marlowe (as well as her days as a pirate—but that was another story), as well as Queen Elizabeth I, who was not only her favorite Queen, but also her namesake.

Lizzie eagerly returned the kiss with as much fervor as she could, her arms wrapped around his neck in order to draw him closer. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she hoisted herself up to straddle the man's lap, causing him to groan lowly against her lips. Officer Jones broke the kiss briefly to adjust himself into a more comfortable position on the couch, and then he immediately dove in for her lips again.

_So hot…so hot…_The British girl gasped as a hot tongue gently brushed against her lips, wanting to pry them open. In reply, she moaned and parted her lips, allowing the kiss to deepen. She ran her fingers through his soft hair and brought her body closer to his, inadvertently grinding her hips against him.

"Mmph!" Officer Jones gasped away from her, bent his head down slightly, and his eyes clenched shut as he hissed out shuddering breaths.

Lizzie's eyes widened as her heart panged in panic. "D-d-did I do something wrong? Oh, God, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry…!"

"No," he ground out, shaking his head. Then he looked at Lizzie, his eyes dark with emotion, and he leaned forward again, breathing, "No."

As he cupped the back of her head, he kissed her again, and Lizzie melted against him, so lost in it that she didn't really care that his hands began to wander her body, un-tucking her blouse from her skirt and feeling the skin there. He then put his hands on her hips and brought them against him again, shocking Lizzie when she felt something against her thigh…

Her eyes opened wide, as she blushed in realization. …_Oh._

As if sensing her unease, Officer Jones began to kiss down the side of her neck tenderly, as if to tell assure that it was okay. With the sensations leaving her in a pleasurable haze, Lizzie moaned softly and arched her neck to give the policeman more access.

_Oh, _she purred mentally, especially as the America look-alike started to nibble and suck on her collar bone…

"Well, _howdy_," a voice interrupted, making the both Officer Jones and Elizabeth freeze.

"Oh, sorry, did I interrupt somethin'?"

Blushing brightly, Lizzie buried her face in Officer Jones' shoulder, too mortified to turn around and yell at Cowboy America—whereas Officer Jones glared at his counterpart icily from above his lenses, his grip around her waist tightening slightly in a protective hold.

"There something ya want, hombre," he practically growled.

The cowboy, donned in regular pajamas and his hat, smiled innocently, though his eyes said a whole different story to the policeman.

"I just felt a lil hungry, is all," he shrugged. Then he smirked darkly, adding, "Seems, I weren't the only one."

Lizzie whimpered softly and tried to meld more into Officer Jones' shoulder, as if hoping to disappear. The policeman rubbed circles in the small of her back, trying to calm her down, though not being too successful.

"Aw, Miss Kirkland, ya don't have to be like that. I won't say a word about it, I swear on my name as the United States of America," Cowboy America said, his voice laced with comfort. "A'sides, you were looking as pretty as a rose in May, if I do say so m'self."

…Somehow, that didn't really help.

Lizzie finally glared back at him and pointed towards her kitchen. "Out," she ground out.

He put his hands up in defense, still smiling as he backed into the kitchen. "All righty."

Once the door was closed behind him, Lizzie let out a sigh of relief. She then turned around to face Officer Jones, and then she smiled at the sight that greeted her.

"What's so funny?" He asked, also smiling slightly.

"Your glasses," she replied.

He blinked and tilted up his _(America's)_ beloved Texas, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the slightly fogged lenses. "Well, would you look at that…"

He gestured to remove his glasses, but Lizzie took them first.

"Here, let me," she offered. She picked up the hem of her blouse, feeling initially bemused _(When in the blooming hell did he start unbuttoning my shirt?)_, and then she began to clean the lenses. Once they looked clear, she held them up and regarded him questioningly. "Is this good?"

"Yeah; thanks," he replied as he took them and placed them back on his face.

For the third time that night, the two of them were caught in a staring contest with each other. Lizzie felt that same heated desire to kiss Officer Jones again, and to keep kissing him until, well…_whatever _happened between them.

_But, _she bit her bottom lip, warily looking at the door—and then she sighed.

"I'm not quite sure," Lizzie said dryly, "but I think that was a sign to stop."

Officer Jones chuckled huskily. "I'll buy that."

Her lips twitched, but Elizabeth quickly hid her almost smile under a cool expression that she had perfected centuries ago. She removed herself from his lap and stood up straight to fix her hair and shirt, in order to maintain a composed appearance. Once she had buttoned up her blouse (she was still confused as to when Officer Jones had unbuttoned it in the first place, but whatever) and had straightened out invisible wrinkles on her skirt, Elizabeth looked down at Officer Jones and bowed her head politely.

"Good night, Mr. Jones." She then turned on her heel and started for the stairs, walking slowly and calmly, so as to show that her self-control was still intact, despite the act (or _near_ act, depending on your point of view) of passion.

"Night…Lizzie."

His voice made her pause slightly, and she felt a slight pang in her chest. In that moment, that one moment, he _really_ sounded like…

Elizabeth breathed in and quickly walked up to her room. Once she was inside, she leaned her back against the door for a brief moment, and then she made her way to the bed—and then swiftly flopped down on it face first.

_Well, I'll admit, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be_, she blushed lightly, still reeling from that moment. _Actually, it wasn't bad at all…_

_(Of course, it was just a good round of snogging—no big deal, obviously. I mean, it's not as if we were going to have _sex _or anything. What wanker would expect that, anyway? N-not me, of course…And I'm most certainly not disappointed that it didn't happen. Nope, not me, not at ALL…Stop laughing, I can practically hear you…)_

She smiled and turned to stare at her ceiling. "Well, at least that's over and done with. Now that the 'tension' is gone, Officer Jones won't make me feel all weird anymore. Problem solved."

However, as England slowly started to sleep, that secret part of her that lurked in the depths of her mind squealed like a hormonal teenage girl and cried out for _more…more…more…_

* * *

**Omake:**

Officer Jones watched Elizabeth as she left, his head tilted slightly as he eyed her pale legs appreciatively, her hips swaying back and forth gracefully. Once he was sure she was gone, he let out a low whistle, and then smiled widely.

This totally called for a victory doughnut.

Feeling that familiar craving that made his mouth water (no, not England—_doughnuts_…pervert), Officer stood up and walked into the kitchen to find one delicious chocolate glaze; almost forgetting that he wasn't alone.

When he remembered, his blue eyes locked onto an identical pair, except they were glaring at him with envy.

"Ya dirty, no-good, rascal," Cowboy crossed his arms and smirked, despite his slight hostility. "Ya just couldn't wait, could ya, Sheriff?"

Officer didn't lose face. "There was an opportunity, and I took it."

"Oh, I'll _bet_."

"Don't give me that; ya would've done the same if ya were in my place."

Cowboy laughed slightly, though there was no real humor in it, and he continued to stare right into Officer Jones' eyes.

Both pairs of blues sparked with determination, as well as the forging of a challenge.

_It was on._

_

* * *

_

***Western music* Wa, wa, wa~**

**Sooo, what'd you think? Okay, I know the kissing scene was probably an uber fail (I said I was comfortable writing het; that didn't mean I was good), but there must have been something you loved about it...especially with Police!America, since that's apparently a fetish for some Hetalia fans (and England, but that's obvious)...**

**As for fem!England...well, what do you guys think? I tried to balance out her attraction for Police!Alfred with England's Tsundere-ness, that way she would give into temptation, without acting..well, easy. Though this is basically a PWP (Plot What Plot?) story, I wanted to still give her some depth. If I messed up, though, please let me know.**

**Oh, and on another note: Yeah, Chibimerica totally ships Police!USx(fem)UK XD**


	3. Second Kiss

**A/N: OMG, the amount of people who love Police!America…I totally didn't intend to embellish this fan fetish, I swear—at least, not until later (lol). **

**However, though I want to get to the part I **_**really**_** want to write, we still have to establish some more build up and tension between fem!England and the other Americas (except Chibimerica, of course), so Officer Jones will sort of have to take a seat from the sidelines…for now.**

**Also, don't fret dear readers, Revolutionary!America's in the story—the relationship between him and Lizzie will be covered in the next chapter.**

**Oh, and also: I'm still listening to "It's Raining Men", which, from what I've read, apparently landed at number two in the **_**UK**_** Singles Chart when it came out. Oh, the **_**irony**_**. XD**

_**Edit!: Oh my God, I just realized where I got the idea for Officer Jones' attitude, or at least the idea to give him a Texan accent, anyway. Kita Kitsune (author of the fic "Cop"), if you're out there, I'm totally sorry for not giving you the credit you deserve! (Granted, he's gay in that fic, but you get what I mean.) DX**_

**Disclaimer: Same as the first chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Second Kiss**

The next awkward moment to occur in the "America clones incident", which England had decided to call it, happened during the second week after the start of said incident, a few days after the… (ahem) _moment _with Officer Jones. By that time, the house had developed a rather odd atmosphere.

For example, the…_feelings_ that Elizabeth had developed for Officer Jones had yet to dissipate. Actually, you could say they had intensified as a result of that kiss, and this was proven about two days after said kiss:

Lizzie was trying to chop the vegetables she would put in her stew, silently fuming at the carrot that refused to yield. As one of her thick eyebrows twitched in irritation, the nation opened her mouth to let out the well-deserved bouts of profanity toward the vegetable, but then a certain someone (three guesses who) walked up behind her, practically pressing his front against her back.

The words immediately died in her throat as a blush rose to her cheeks; she didn't have to turn around to see who it was.

"Honestly, Lizzie," Officer Jones teased, his breath hot against her ear, "if you're gonna feed us your crappy food, you could at least do it right."

She immediately bristled, but refused to turn around, for obvious reasons (hint: read previous chapter).

"There is nothing wrong with my food," she countered through her teeth. "You American gits just don't have any taste."

"Uh-huh, whatever you say, Lizzie."

Then he put his gloved hand over hers, the one holding the knife. His other hand placed itself on the other side, making Lizzie suddenly feel trapped like a canary to a cat—a feeling that should _NOT _have made her legs feel like jelly.

_Okay, calm down, Elizabeth. Just breathe, _she told herself as she tried to will her heart to stop beating so fast (emphasis on _tried_).

"What do you think you are doing, Mr. Jones?" Lizzie bit out.

"Helpin' ya," he replied.

"Well, don't. I can do it myself."

"Oh, just relax, sugar, and let me do all the work."

_(He called me sugar again, tee hee…I mean, what the hell is with the bloody pet names?)_

With that said, Officer Jones began to firmly guide Lizzie's hand into slicing the carrot into a row of semi-thick slices. With each slice, Lizzie began to feel less tense, and she even managed to find the strength to do it herself. Once she managed on her own, Officer Jones let go of her hand, but then pressed his palm on the counter, still caging her in, but not making any more movement.

_Hm, this…isn't so bad_, she smiled slightly, her cheeks pink. _I could almost get used to this…_

Of course, right as she thought it, Lizzie began to feel a pair of familiar lips brushing against her neck.

_I spoke too soon… _

Red with fury (_not pleasure!_), Lizzie put the knife down and her hands curled into fists. If Officer Jones noticed her irritation, he neither said anything, nor had any reaction indicating he knew; he just continued kissing down her neck, making the soft skin tingle…

(_W-with disgust, of course, not pleasure! Nothing he does is __**ever**__ good, not to mention of the proper etiquette. I mean, honestly; one does not simply make physical advances on someone, not without asking permission, at least!…N-n-not that Officer Jones has to ask me permission to do things to me, b-because I would most certainly say __**NO**__! S-so, don't get the wrong idea…!)_

When that damned mouth started to suckle on her pulse point, Lizzie felt as if she swallowed her tongue.

_Oh, God. _She had to hang on to the edge of the counter to try and get a semblance of balance; she was afraid that if she didn't, her knees would buckle.

As Officer's ministrations continued, Lizzie bit her bottom lip and tried to stifle the moan crawling up her throat.

_This has to stop…Come on, Lizzie, ol' girl, do _something_._

Lizzie tried to shake the man off and move away, but as soon as she did, Officer Jones quickly wrapped his arms around her body, pulling it against his. By then, the poor British girl's heart was jumping so much, she felt she couldn't breathe. With her cheeks blushing furiously, Lizzie swallowed and tried to calmly breathe in, and out.

"I-I can't concentrate with you doing that," she finally said, shakily.

"Really?" Despite his innocent tone, Lizzie could feel the smirk against her neck. "How come?"

_(Because it drives me absolutely mad…with _anger_, I mean!)_ "It's not comfortable. So, please, get off my neck, and just sod off!"

Officer Jones just chuckled (sexily) evilly and began to nuzzle against the forbidden territory. "That's too bad, 'cuz I _really_ like your neck, Lizzie."

Lizzie shivered at the hunger in his voice, but refused to lose face. She darted her eyes to glare at his head.

"I am not some kind of delicacy, you wanker!"

"Says _you_." As if to emphasize his point, the policeman gently nipped her pulse point, licking and suckling on it once more, making Lizzie let out an undignified squeak.

_Okay, I'll admit it; I sort of walked in on __**that**__ one, but still…_

"What kind of bloody police officer are you?" Lizzie screeched. "Do you always act this way towards everyone who tickles your fancy?"

"No, not everyone. There's only one person in this world who will ever 'tickle my fancy'." He picked his head up to wink at her pointedly.

Lizzie blushed, feeling a sudden warmth bloom in her chest, and then she turned to face ahead. She didn't want him to know that her lips were itching to warp into the goofy smile of a lovesick girl.

"Sh-shut up, you blooming wanker! Don't say such stupid things," she griped, causing Officer Jones to laugh.

Then her face went blank as she started to realize something.

Beat.

"…Officer Jones, that better be your gun I'm feeling behind me, or I swear to God—"

"Oh, yeah?" Officer Jones turned her around to face him as he smirked down at the woman trapped in his arms. He leaned closer to her, his face just centimeters from her own. "What're ya gonna do 'bout it?"

"U-um, I," she shrank back a bit, suddenly feeling timid. "I'll—I'll, uh…"

_Oh, God, is he going to kiss me again? Please, say that it's so_. _Please, please, please_, that deep part of her that loved this begged, embarrassing Lizzie even further (damn it, where was that Victorian Era self-control when you need it?).

The policeman smiled softly at her stammering, and then cupped her cheek with one hand, bringing her face closer. Against her will, Lizzie let out a soft keening sound from behind closed lips, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"I missed you," he breathed against her lips, right as he was about to—

The kitchen door was swiftly kicked open, followed by:

"Yee-haw, that carnival sure was fun, wasn't it, boys?"

Officer Jones and Lizzie stiffened, the latter blushing bright red, while the former put his hands on the counter (still on either side of Lizzie), his eyes unreadable due to a sudden glare in his glasses. (However, if you looked close enough, you might see one of his eyebrows twitching.)

While Lizzie leaned to the side to look behind him, Officer turned his head stiffly to see Cowboy America walking in with a cheerful Chibimerica on his shoulders holding a teddy bear, followed by a bored looking Revolutionary America, who was currently wearing a blue hoodie and jeans, instead of his usual uniform. (Since it was obvious that they'd be here for a while, Lizzie figured she might as well have them prepared to look normal, instead of people drawn from a historical period.)

"Heck, yeah," Chibimerica laughed. "Next time, I wanna go on the roller coaster."

Rev smirked up at him. "You're too small, midget."

"I am not! Right, Engwand, I'm not too—" The little boy couldn't finish his sentence when he finally saw the position Lizzie was in. His eyes went wide, and his expression was blank. Curious, Cowboy followed his gaze, and his expression also went blank—though his blue eyes seemed to have darkened with slight hostility, at least when he looked directly at Officer Jones.

Revolutionary then noticed, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion at Lizzie, then at Officer Jones.

"Dude, what are you doing to the old woman?"

Officer Jones' eyebrow twitch got worse, while Lizzie just bristled.

"Who are you calling old, you brat?" She screeched—then her cheeks darkened even more, as she pushed the man away from her. "And he didn't do anything!…And neither did I!…_We didn't do anything!_"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Rev snorted. "You didn't have to scream; now my ears hurt."

"I don't give a bloody damn about your ears! Now, all of you, get out of my kitchen, and let me cook!"

Revolutionary's face went pale, and his eyes widened with fright. "You can't be serious."

Cowboy sighed, already sensing another fight between the two of them. That seemed to be all Lizzie and Rev did whenever they came in contact with each other. He put Chibimerica, who had an uneasy look on his face, down and regarded the child with a reassuring smile.

"Kid, why don't you and Rev go watch a movie, all right?" He nodded towards Lizzie and Officer, "I'm gonna help these two out in the kitchen."

Chibimerica held the bear to his chest and nodded. Then he went over to Revolutionary and pulled the shell-shocked teen away by the hand, which was easy, with his super strength, but it also hurt Rev, because he ended up bending forward as a result.

That left Lizzie alone in the room…with Officer Jones and Cowboy America.

She scowled at Cowboy and crossed her arms, glaring at both him and Officer America. "I don't need help. I can cook fine on my own."

Cowboy sweat dropped, his smile twitching nervously. "O-of course, you—"

"—Can't," Officer Jones finished/interrupted.

Both Lizzie and Cowboy America sent him heated glares (for semi-different reasons), which he returned with a cool expression of his own, one eyebrow quirked as he crossed his arms.

"What?"

Lizzie let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, while Cowboy's eyes flashed before he covered it up with a polite smile.

"Sheriff, it ain't polite to insult a lady," he said.

"I believe it's more insulting to tell a lady lies just so her feelings aren't hurt," Jones countered.

Cowboy chuckled at that, but the sound was without humor.

Suddenly, both pairs of blue eyes locked onto each other, one sparkling with heated anger, while the other glinted coldly. In their eyes was an unspoken challenge that neither was willing to lose.

And Lizzie, unfortunate enough to be standing between the two America look-alikes, watched the exchange and couldn't be more confused.

_What the bloody fuck is going on with these two? They seemed to get along so well at first, but something must have changed. Did they have a fight?_

Well, she certainly wasn't going to stand for it, not in her house.

"Oi, listen up you gits," she said loudly, putting her hands on her hips. "You can both help me cook, all right? And stop bitching at each other, for God's sake. It's getting on my nerves."

Cowboy winced at the scolding, and, as he removed his hat, he bowed his head humbly, looking like the definition of a kicked puppy, while Officer Jones just averted his eyes and scratched his cheek awkwardly.

"Sorry, Miss Kirkland," he said softly.

Lizzie's eyes softened and she found herself smiling slightly. When Cowboy was being all sweet and polite, it was impossible for her to get or stay angry at him. Though she initially thought he'd annoy her the most; after all, from what she'd heard during the Victorian Era, the cowboys in America were supposed to be dirty, wild, improper, social inept scoundrels.

From what she'd seen from Cowboy, however, seemed to be quite the opposite; he was wild, no doubt, and he had a tendency not to care too much about his appearance, but he was also a gentleman. He never cursed around her, and he always referred to her as "Miss Kirkland"; he even kissed the back of her hand once, when he'd first introduced himself (after Officer Jones explained to her about the situation, of course). Other than that, however, he hasn't touched her beyond an occasional hand on her shoulder, and has always made sure to be respectful towards her, or at least act like it. Even though he'd walked in on her and Officer Jones that night, the man had kept his mouth shut about it, and didn't seem to think any less of her for it.

To sum it up in a sentence, Cowboy was an American version of a Victorian gentleman (possibly even better), and that automatically made him all right by Elizabeth's book.

Plus, with Cowboy in the kitchen, there will be less of a chance of Officer Jones to try anything with her.

"It's all right," she said. "I just want both of you to _behave_." Lizzie glared pointedly at Officer Jones, who was currently eating a chocolate frosted donut. _(When did he pull that out…?)_

The policeman blinked innocently. "But Lizzie, I _always_ behave," he smiled.

Her eyebrow twitched. _That bastard. He thinks that just because he's good at snogging, and looks so incredibly sexy with those handcuffs hanging off his belt…_

Lizzie shook her head before her thoughts could wander any further. God, the man was corrupting her; yes, that had to be it.

"Let's just finish this and be done with it," she instructed, and then she went back to the counter to continue slicing the vegetables.

Even while her back was turned, Cowboy and Officer Jones still couldn't resist giving each other one last glare before helping her.

* * *

Ah, yes—Lizzie still had it bad for Officer Jones. (And, you know you don't blame her.)

However, soon after that, there did come a time when Lizzie came to appreciate Cowboy America's presence almost just as much:

A few days after the incident in the kitchen, Elizabeth was at a World Meeting, sitting down and going through her notes for her presentation, and waiting for the meeting to start—as well as trying to drown out the noise. As usual, all the nations were already starting a ruckus with random arguments, as well as general talking, which was almost always in loud voices. (In fact, scratch out the almost.) Though it irritated her, England knew that as soon as America, the hosting country, finally arrived (_That blooming tardy arse…_), Germany would only have to let out a yell, and then everyone would immediately settle down for the meeting.

So, since she was expecting the day to go on as usual, the last thing Lizzie wanted to happen _happened_:

"England-san?"

"Yes, Japan?" Lizzie smiled at her friend, who was sitting beside her.

"If you don't mind me asking," Japan blushed lightly, his brown eyes darting side to side awkwardly:

"What's that on your neck?"

The minute the words were out, all the nations in the room grew silent, and it felt as if time had stopped.

Meanwhile, as she sat in her chair, frozen, England stiffly put her hand on her neck, on the spot that had been on her mind for the past few days—the red bruise that had the slightest indent of a bite mark, which was currently occupying her pulse point.

_Damn it, _she screamed mentally. _I thought that it was gone by now! Don't these things usually go away in a few days?_

Quickly noticing the silence, Lizzie turned her head to see that the rest of the nations were staring at her, their expressions varying in shock and curiosity.

_Oh, __**shite**__. _

Her lips twitched into a reassuring smile as she tried to think of an excuse—but before she could say anything, France suddenly got up in her face. With serious, slightly narrowed blue eyes, he pulled her hand away, and tugged down the collar of her business blouse just the slightest, yet still enough to see the mark on her neck.

His eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped.

"_Sacre bleu! _It is true," he exclaimed, a grin coming to his face.

Lizzie flushed with anger and embarrassment, and, jumping to her feet, she tried to push the Frenchman away by shoving her hand on his face.

"G-get away from me, you bloody frog!"

Suddenly, Prussia popped up next to France and blinked at Lizzie. His red eyes widened, just as his trademark smirk grew full force.

"Is that a hickey, England?" He quirked an eyebrow, looking slightly impressed. "I didn't think you'd have it in you."

"N-no, it's nothing like that," England began to back away. "I-it's just an allergic reaction. That's all!"

"Ve, an allergic reaction with teeth marks?" Italy popped up next to her, his brow crinkled with confusion, as well as ignorance to her embarrassment. He tilted his head. "That doesn't make any sense…"

Blushing brightly, she slammed her hand against her neck, hiding the damned bruise.

"I-it's an animal bite," she covered immediately, backing away even more. "I, um, got it while walking in the forest."

"Really?" Hungary popped up behind her, shrewdly trapping her from escaping, her eyebrow raised. "An animal with human teeth?"

England didn't know how to answer that. "Uh…um…"

Her hands were suddenly grabbed by France, who grinned down at her, his cheeks flushing slightly. "_Angleterre_, you must tell me who this mysterious beau is, this man—or woman—who has won your heart, as well as your vital regions."

If England's face was red before, it was absolutely crimson now.

"W-w-w-w-_WHAT_?"

"_Ay, bendito_," Spain cooed in the background, glancing at Romano fondly. "She gets as red as you do, _mi dulce de tomate_."

"Sh-shut up, you bastardo," the Italian yelled, his face flushing.

"Really, though, _Angleterre_," France interjected, his eyes going starry as he jumped up and down eagerly. "I must know the name of this lover of yours!"

One of England's bushy eyebrows began to twitch madly, and she opened her mouth to let out her anger, when:

"Like, duh, Francis—you should already know who it is," Poland spoke up, his green eyes twinkling knowingly.

Everything paused as the nations (those who cared, anyway) surrounding England began to contemplate, and then suddenly, they all burst into wide smiles—especially France.

"You and America are finally together! Oh, _Dieu merci_, I didn't know how much longer I could take all that UST in the air."

Wide eyed, England's throat closed up; causing any words she had to die right away. _What…?_

"Granted, you are completely missing out on the chance experience of _lamour _with _moi_," France said flamboyantly, his hand placed on his chest in a dramatic manner, "But I suppose I can live with it." He winked slyly, and added quietly, "Just be sure to give me every detail you can, _cheri_."

The twitch in her eyebrow got worse as England suddenly got that familiar urge to _kill…kill…kill…_

Once again, however, England was interrupted before she could properly let out her rage, right when the door was thrown open unceremoniously:

"Never fear, Nations of the world!" A familiar, obnoxious voice sang, "The HERO has arrived!"

England couldn't help but roll her eyes to the ceiling helplessly. _Why don't you just kill me already?_

As he took a bite out of his burger, America noticed the nations gathered around England and blinked in confusion.

"Hey, guys," he smiled obliviously. "What's going on?"

Seeing that smile sent a pang going through England's chest, immediately reminding her that she'd been basically lusting after his clone for the past week and a half. For some reason, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"Th-there's nothing—"

"Ah, mon ami, I must congratulate you on your union," France jumped in, wrapping a friendly arm around the young nation's shoulders.

America quirked an eyebrow, frowning slightly. "Dude, what are you talking about?"

Prussia smacked his back, smirking widely. "Seriously, American _dummkopf_, I didn't pin you down as being a biter—but I guess it's something you and your brother share."

"G-Gil! Don't tell them that, eh!" A vaguely familiar voice cried out, laced with embarrassment.

The albino laughed and winked at someone in the back of the crowd. "All right, Mattie. Whatever you say."

(_Who…? Oh, right; that Canada guy._)

America frowned harder at Prussia, whether it was out of protection for his brother, or his confusion, England didn't know.

"Okay, now I'm really confused," he said, looking at the rest of the nations. "What did I do?"

France blinked, and then his eyes widened in realization. "Wait, you didn't, but…?"

"Then who gave Lizzie the hickey?" Elizaveta (Hungary) finished, looking back at England with a slightly worried (as well as disappointed) expression.

America blinked at the question, staying silent for a couple of beats as he processed what was just said.

"…What."

England couldn't help but face palm; she didn't want to see what any other facial reactions the American might have had. She also still couldn't bring herself to say anything, which was bad, since all the other nations seemed to have taken it upon themselves to talk for her.

"Like, yeah," Poland spoke, his voice sounding slightly dreamy. "England's got the kind of love bite that must have had, like, _a lot_ of passion put into it, ya know?"

The blonde couldn't help but spare a glance at Lithuania, who blushed lightly.

Lizzie's blush returned full force as she recalled the way Officer Jones had bit and licked her…and the way he'd kissed her those nights ago…

She gulped and looked down at her shoes, her pale fists trembling at her sides. _I think this might be the worst day of my life…_

Suddenly she saw America's sneakers in front of her own, and she looked up to see him looking at her with an unreadable expression. His sky blue eyes looked at the mark that had grabbed everyone's attention, and they blinked slowly behind his glasses.

Her heart jumped at the proximity, and that inner voice of hers started to mentally cry out to him, the pleads echoing inside England's head: _Say something…anything…_

"I-it's nothing, really!" England protested, her cheeks still red. "Those wankers are just making it all up, I swear!"

Then America did something that made her heart stop:

He smiled.

…_What?_

"No way, England you really hooked up with someone?" He laughed, and then poked her forehead gently. "You'll have to introduce him sometime."

There have been many moments in history where England, a.k.a. Elizabeth Kirkland's heart had shattered into a million pieces, and every time it happened it was always more difficult to put it back together. The first time it had officially happened was the death of Queen Elizabeth I—it had been too soon for the nation to say goodbye to her beloved Queen, or at least it felt like it. The second time, of course, was the Revolutionary War. Then there was the death of many of her children during the Blitz, as well as the devastation of her home.

But this…Elizabeth felt that she would willingly go through all that again, if she could have just avoided _this._

_Officer Jones could have made love to me by now, probably many times if I asked him (n-not that I would, I'm just saying)…and Alfred _still_ wouldn't give a rat's arse, would he._

The thought made Lizzie's heart clench and her eyes sting, but she refused to lose her composure. She took a few deep breaths, and then closed her eyes for a brief moment. Then, when she opened them again, she didn't even look at America as she walked around him and through the crowd of nations to get back to her seat.

Some of the nations looked at her with looks of sympathy, especially France, while many just walked back to their seat, either not caring, or feeling too awkward to do anything else.

America was the only one in the room who looked like he had no idea what just happened (yes, even Italy knew what was going on…it's tragic, really), and that was probably for the best, Lizzie decided silently.

England cleared her throat, and regarded her fellow nations with a look of professionalism.

"Well, since we are all present now," she nodded at Germany. "Let's get this started."

"Uh, right," Germany avoided her cool gaze, flushing awkwardly. "Now, you all know the rules: No talking while someone is presenting, each speech must be exactly eight minutes long…"

* * *

Lizzie could not get out of the World Meeting fast enough when it was over that late afternoon. While the meeting itself wasn't really eventful, the moments prior to it were still fresh in her mind—which was currently aching, along with her neck, as she stepped onto the streets of Washington, D.C. _Ugh,_ she just wanted to get back to her hotel room and sleep for the rest of the day.

"England-san!"

Lizzie looked behind her to see Kiku running towards her, his face flushed as he approached her.

"Yes, Japan," she said politely, trying not to let her fatigue show. "What is it?"

The Japanese man flushed guiltily and bowed lowly. "I'm so sorry about what happened today. I didn't think, and I—"

Lizzie smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Kiku, it's all right. I should have checked myself this morning before I left." _Plus, that's really not the only reason I'm upset…_

Kiku looked at her, his eyes still full of guilt. "I still feel horrible about it. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

She laughed, and put up a reassuring hand. "Don't worry about it—"

Something red a few feet behind Kiku caught her eye, causing Lizzie to stop. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, and then they widened again.

_No way…_

"Elizabeth-san?" Kiku said, concerned.

Lizzie blinked at him, and then smiled, albeit shakily. "Right, as I was saying, it's completely all right, Kiku. You don't have to worry about it." Before he could say anything further, she walked around him, still facing him. "Now, I really hate to cut this sort, but I just remembered that I have to do something in my hotel room. I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow, though, okay?"

"Um, okay," he nodded, a little put off by Lizzie's slight change of mood.

The two friends bowed farewell, and Lizzie waited until Kiku walked away before she ran to the flower shop, where she'd seen him go in. Once inside she looked around until she saw a man wearing a familiar hat and a duster coat, bending down to examine a row of tulips. When he stood up again, her eyes narrowed and her cheeks puffed out as soon as she recognized him; and yet, she couldn't help but feel a little lighter, somehow. She walked up behind him and put her hands on her hips.

"And what do you think _you're_ doing here?"

Cowboy gasped softly and cringed, looking much like Chibimerica trying to sneak a cookie from the jar. (_Aw…Wait, no! Must. Resist._)

"Well? I'm waiting," Lizzie said, tapping her foot lightly.

"Heh-heh," he turned around with a nervous smile and a tip of his hat. "Howdy, Miss Kirkland."

"Don't you 'Howdy, Miss Kirkland' me, sir. Why are you here, and not back home with the others?"

Cowboy avoided her gaze, flushed, and then took off his hat, scratching the back of his head. Though the sight made her melt inside _(A shy America, it just—I mean—AW!)_, Lizzie kept up the pretense of being upset and/or annoyed with him.

But seriously, though, how did he get here?

"…I just thought ya might need the company," he said, finally.

Lizzie blinked as something warmed in her chest. She almost found herself smiling, but was able to stop it when she got the idea to tease Cowboy a little.

She crossed her arms and gave him a suspicious look. "Are you stalking me?"

Cowboy's eyes widened comically as he blushed. "W-w-what?"

"Because I can't think of any other reason why you'd be here, unless I've actually gone mad enough to see Americas everywhere I go," Lizzie finished, sounding nonchalant.

The young man shook his head furiously, sputtering out, "I-it's nothing like that! I just…"

And Lizzie couldn't help but giggle; it would be sooo much easier to get mad at him if he didn't act so adorable.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Now calm down, Texas might fall off," she chuckled softly. "But, seriously, how did you manage to get here?"

"Well, getting past the Sheriff wasn't that simple. The man's probably gonna give me a what fer when we get back," Cowboy laughed, slightly nervous. "The real easy part was getting the ticket. All I had to do was get a hamburger and say 'Hero!' and the U.S. embassy gave it to me without a second thought."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Why does that not surprise me?" She looked at Cowboy for a bit, and then sighed. "Well, since you're already here, I can't really do anything, can I?"

Cowboy brightened at that. "You're not mad?"

"Oh, pish tosh, no," she smiled. "I was surprised if anything, but not mad." _Actually, I'm kind of glad _you're_ here, at least._

"Good, 'cuz I wanna take you somewhere."

"What—?" Before she could blink, Cowboy was already walking out the door of the flower shop, nodding for her to follow. Lizzie did and watched as Cowboy frowned and walked on the sidewalk a few times.

"Now, if I'm correct, it should be that way," he pointed in a direction with a gloved hand.

"What should?" Lizzie asked, still confused.

"Should take us at least an hour to get there, if I run fast enough."

"Where's 'there'?"

Just as she was about to question more, Lizzie quickly found herself getting picked up bridal style. She gasped in shock and immediately wrapped her arms around Cowboy's neck.

"You'll see." He winked down at her and crouched down. "Now, be sure to brace yourself, Miss Kirkland."

And before she realized it, Cowboy shot off, running at lightning speed.

* * *

Lizzie couldn't recall the last time she'd ever gone that fast—never, actually, now that she thought about it. Everything Cowboy ran past was all a blur of the greens and browns of trees, and the gray of concrete. The wind beat against her face furiously, and she had to keep her eyes and mouth closed, for fear that she might get something in them and/or lose her breath.

"Just a little while longer, Miss Kirkland, I promise," she'd heard whispered against her ear whenever he stopped to give her a break.

Being held by Cowboy, however, made the experience almost worth it, Lizzie decided.

When they stopped for the last time, Cowboy said into her ear, "You can open your eyes now, Miss."

And when she did, Lizzie immediately noticed that it was already night time, and that they were in the field of an apple orchard.

"Ya alright, Miss Kirkland?" Cowboy's eyes softened in worry.

"Y-yeah, I'm all right. Where are we?" She asked shakily, still trying to get her breathing under control.

"Upstate New York," he smiled.

"New York?" Lizzie's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you'd take me to where the Old West was, or something."

"Now, see, I would, but that woulda taken longer, and it woulda been a lot rougher—and I don't think ya have the kind of patience to handle it."

The British girl's eyebrows twitched, and she turned her head away, frowning. "I don't know what you're talking about. I have an immense amount of patience."

"Uh-huh." Cowboy rolled his eyes playfully. "O' course ya do."

_Oh, the nerve! _Lizzie looked back at him and opened her mouth to yell at him—but the words quickly died out when she looked at him. His blue eyes glinted from the moonlight, and his grin was warm and brilliant; despite being night time, it still didn't fail to dazzle her. His skin looked soft to the touch, with the exception of his chin and jaw, which had a light stubble. _(…NO, that is not the sound of me squealing with joy inside my head.)_ Then there were the arms that held her, those muscular arms that held her against a broad chest that gave off warmth and a musky smell; Lizzie couldn't help but lean into it somewhat…

"Um, Miss Kirkland?"

Lizzie's heart jumped when she saw Cowboy looking at her with flushed cheeks, and she couldn't help but blush heatedly.

_What…what am I doing?_

"Y-you could put me down, now," she avoided his eyes, trying to hide her embarrassment. "I think I can manage."

"Right, sure thing."

Cowboy set her on her feet, albeit with some reluctance. Lizzie took one step away from him, despite suddenly feeling the cold and longing for the previous warmth. She looked away, mentally scolding herself as she rubbed her arms.

_Honestly, another one? How many times am I going to react whenever these Americas (with the exception of Chibimerica, and definitely Revolutionary…I think) act significantly more charming and/or look extremely attractive?_

_God damn it, I'm too old for this whole hormonal shite_, she groaned in her mind. _And this combined with what happened today…ugh._

A chilly breeze blew against her, making her skin pop up with goose bumps. Lizzie shivered and rubbed her arms faster. _And I'm cold too; it's official, this day really, really…_

Suddenly she felt something warm being put over her shoulders, and she realized that it was Cowboy's huge duster. It was way too long for her to wear on a regular basis, but it was really warm, just like its owner was…

_Wait._

"What about you?" Lizzie looked at Cowboy with concern, noticing that he was just wearing a red plaid shirt with a brown vest, and a red bandana wrapped around his neck. "Won't you be cold?"

"Ah, don't worry about it, darlin'," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I was getting' too hot anyway."

"Oh," she blushed lightly _(Okay, are all of these Americas going to call me pet names?)_."Thank you."

Cowboy looked up at an orchard, and hummed thoughtfully. Then he smiled and picked out two red-green apples that could fit in the palm of a hand. He examined both of them carefully, and then he tossed one to Lizzie, who looked down at it suspiciously.

"It's okay," he reassured her. "They're good."

"How can you be so sure?" Lizzie quirked an eyebrow.

"Farmers with apple orchards usually use them to make a living, when they're in season, of course. They'd have to do their best to make them healthy enough for one to just pick and eat them."

Lizzie hummed in understanding, and then she took a small bite from the apple. She smiled when she felt the sweet and sour taste hit her tongue and promptly took another bite.

"Is this what you wanted to show me," she asked him.

"Aw, heck nah, this is just a bonus. What I really wanted to show ya was this," Cowboy pointed up at the sky, looking up with a smile.

Lizzie looked up also, and her mouth gaped open in awe. "The stars…"

"Uh-huh. I can't think of a better reason to take a break from the big city." Cowboy sat down on the ground, still looking up at the stars.

Against her better judgment, Lizzie sat down next to him, making sure to button the duster as she did.

For a while, the two of them just sat there in a comfortable silence, eating their apples and looking at the night sky that was completely unbridled by city lights. For some reason, it reminded Lizzie of her time at sea, when she was a pirate queen—when she'd look up at the stars to course out her next plunder and adventure. It made her ache somewhat.

"It's odd," she said softly. "I've seen this sky before, and yet it never ceases to amaze me."

"I know what ya mean," Cowboy said, glancing at her.

Lizzie spoke her mind, as if on auto pilot: "It reminds me of my pirate days, when the world was larger and full of mystery."

"That's right, ya never told me about yer pirate days," he said excitedly. Then he suddenly looked panicked, as if he'd said too much. "I mean, ya never told _America_ about yer pirate days. 'Cuz I'm not America, I'm jus' an image from yer mind, so I wouldn't know at all what America has experienced or felt, heh-heh."

At that, Lizzie frowned somewhat, her eyes going misty with thought.

Cowboy suddenly looked worried. "Miss Kirkland, are ya all right? Did I say somethin' wrong?"

"No, no. Actually, you've made a lot of things clearer for me." Her eyes hardened somewhat. "I should have never hoped for it in the first place."

"Hoped for what?" Cowboy said, looking confused.

Lizzie bit her lips, feeling slightly guilty, and then she sighed. "At the World Meeting, everyone found out about it."

"About…what?"

She tugged her collar down, showing her neck.

"Oh." Cowboy's eyes widened in realization, and then his brow crinkled with worry. "Erm, what did they do?"

"Exactly what you'd expect them to do, make a whole fuss out of nothing," she snorted. "Except America…he was actually happy about it, as if to tell me, 'Now you won't bother me with your stupid feelings anymore'."

Cowboy cringed, and looked like he wanted to say something, but found that he couldn't.

"And…I know it's unfair for you and Officer Jones—bloody, hell, probably all the other Americas as well, including the real one _(It's not his fault, even I can see that…)_—but I can't help it," Lizzie's voice cracked as she grasped her chest with a trembling hand. "It still hurts."

Cowboy's chest clenched at what happened next, with sadness for her, as well as a bit of fear, for her grieving wasn't the kind one would usually expect. The female nation shuddered slightly as tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn't sob uncontrollably. She'd probably done that many times already. No, it wasn't just an expression of heartbreak; it marked that England had finally accepted it within herself, that there was no chance of America loving her back.

And he just couldn't help but be scared of that hopelessness.

Lizzie blinked and sniffled as she suddenly found herself being embraced by Cowboy. He pulled her onto his lap and held her, stroking her hair and whispering sweet reassurances in her ear.

"Don't cry, it'll be all right, I promise…"

And despite every doubt that screamed in her mind, as Lizzie fisted the material of his shirt, she couldn't help but believe him.

* * *

Once Cowboy stopped at her hotel, Lizzie once again tried to regain her lost breath, leaning against the building when he put her down.

"Next time," she glared at him lightly. "We're taking the train."

"Yes, ma'am." Cowboy grinned.

"And you better be back in England before I am," Lizzie demanded, poking his chest for emphasis. "We don't want the other nations seeing you and then asking unwanted questions."

"Most definitely, ma'am. Anythin' else ya want?" He quirked an eyebrow down at her wryly, which Lizzie replied with a small smirk and mischievous green eyes.

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact."

Lizzie leaned up to brush her lips against the young man's cheek, her chin tingling when it was tickled by Cowboy's stubble. She immediately felt his skin heat up under hers, indicating that he was blushing for probably the hundredth time that night.

"Thank you," she whispered once her lips were millimeters from his skin.

"N-no problem, ma'am." Lizzie almost felt him, rather than heard him gulp.

She resisted the urge to giggle, and chose instead to lightly pat his other cheek. She then turned around to walk inside the building, looking at him from over her shoulder.

"Good night. I'll see when I get back."

"Y-yeah, you too." Cowboy stared after her, still stunned as he touched the spot where her lips had been, as if it were a burn from a brand.

Then, once he was sure she had gone inside, he grinned widely with blushing cheeks. He took off his hat and waved it around, yelling out for the entire street to hear:

"_Yee-haw!" _

The next morning, England arrived at the World Meeting to find some of the nations surrounding something on the table.

"Oh, what's all the rubbish now?" She said loudly, immediately getting their attention.

They all looked at her, then at each other, until France decided to speak up:

"_Angleterre_, this came in. It was addressed to you."

He stepped to the side and revealed a lovely snowdrop put into a white vase, with a note folded over, with England's name on it.

England blinked, opened the note, and quickly read it:

_Okay, now before you say anything, I am most likely back home by the time you get this. I just wanted to give you something to make you feel better about yesterday, and, since you invented the language of flowers (which is a kinda weird, but still cool), you should already know what this flower means._

England smiled, and then brought the flower to her nose to breathe it in. _Hope…_

"Who's it from?" Hungary asked curiously.

"Is it the mysterious new beau?" France added, also curious.

England stared at all the nations who looked at her curiously. Once again, she had found herself the center of attention. She was certain that nothing she said would convince them (not that she did the day before, but still).

_And yet…_England thought as she brushed the snowdrop against her lips,_ It's not so bad this time around._

_So, what the bloody hell? _She smiled at the nations mysteriously, rivaling the Mona Lisa smile. _I might as well have fun with it._

"Maybe," she shrugged nonchalantly.

As all the nations erupted in exclaims of "I knew it!" (France, *cough*), as well as some congratulations, no one in the room bothered to take notice of the broken look in America's eyes.

* * *

—**Omake—**

About an hour after their little moment, Lizzie felt that it was time to go back. Cowboy, on the other hand, seemed to disagree slightly.

"Just one look, please? Pretty, pretty please," he begged on his knees, in front of a stable.

"I told you, they're not ours," she said for the thousandth time. "We could get in trouble for this."

"But they look so nice! It's been a while since I've ridden a horse."

"Well, since you like them so much, I'll take you to a horseback riding place when we get back home."

"Really?" His eyes brightened.

"Really." She smiled, "Now, come on. I want to get back to my hotel room so I can go to sleep."

Cowboy tipped his hat. "Yes, ma'am." Then he smiled widely. "It's more efficient anyway, I guess, to save the horse and ride the cowboy 'n all."

If she were drinking tea, Lizzie would have spat it out. Her cheeks reddened as she looked up at him. _Does he not realize the sexual connotations of that phrase…?_

Then she noticed the teasing glint in his eye. _Oh, he totally knows. Well, fine, two can play at that game,_ she smirked mentally.

"Well, if that's really the case," Lizzie said calmly, deliberately swaying her hips slowly as she approached him. Once she was close enough, she then tugged on his bandana and pulled him down closer to her level, and then she leaned up so that she was brushing her lips against his earlobe.

"Then I'll gladly take the cowboy," she practically purred against his skin, feeling it shudder slightly.

When she pulled back, Lizzie saw that Cowboy's face had erupted in red, his blue eyes widened comically. She couldn't help but smile, blushing lightly, _How cute…_

_Now, if only that would work on Officer Jones._

* * *

—**Omake 2: Back in England, when Cowboy arrived—**

"Cowboy…"

"Sheriff…"

The two Americas stared each other down from either side in Lizzie's backyard. Officer Jones' hands were in the pockets of his bomber jacket, while Cowboy's were in the pockets of his duster.

Officer Jones raised an eyebrow. "A flower?"

"A hickey?" Cowboy countered, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm just a man who knows what he wants, and I'm not afraid to tell others straight to their face, even if it's not vocal."

"Well, I'm a man who cares about his lady's feelings, especially concerning such matters."

Officer's eyes narrowed as a glare glinted on his glasses. "Are you actually daring to challenge the depths of my feelings for Lizzie?"

"Oh, Sheriff," Cowboy laughed, and then he smirked—right as he was drawing out the revolvers from his belt. "It won't even be a challenge."

Officer Jones answered by drawing his Magnum .40 from his holster and getting into the protocol position policeman took whenever they aimed their guns.

A tumbleweed rolled by between them, coming from out of nowhere—and then things went to hell.

* * *

The minute England got home, she immediately heard the sound of bullets in her backyard.

She threw down her luggage, ran to the back, and saw that Cowboy and Officer Jones were firing bullet after bullet at each other. Their clothes were ripped, and there were some scratches and bruises on them, but other than that, they were both alive.

With her mouth gaping, Lizzie looked at Revolutionary and Chibimerica, who sat on the porch, watching the whole fight as if it were a show. Bloody hell, the two of them were even sharing a bowl of popcorn.

"Hi, Engwand!" Chibimerica greeted her happily, while Rev just grunted.

"What the bloody _fuck_ is going on?" She yelled, temporarily forgetting that she was in front of a child.

"Tch, I don't know," Revolutionary snorted.

"They've been at this since yesterday," Chibimerica added helpfully, though he sounded a little too cheerful.

Another shot rang out, making Lizzie's skin go ashen. "A-are those real bullets?"

"Hell, no," Revolutionary said. "They're stupid, but not that stupid."

"O-oh, okay, then," she said shakily. Then she cleared her throat and turned away angrily. "In that case, I'm not going to do a damn thing about it. Let them kill each other, for all I care!"

Lizzie turned around and was about to walk away, but then paused to lean down towards Chibimerica's ear.

"Be a darling and make sure they don't kill each other, all right," she whispered.

"Okay!" The child version of America beamed and gave Lizzie a thumbs up. "You can totally count on me to be the hero, Engwand."

England gave him one last soft smile before promptly walking inside. She needed an aspirin.

Once she was gone, Officer Jones and Cowboy realized they were out of bullets. They both stared at their respective weapons for a moment to contemplate—

—And then threw them aside as they tackled each other to the ground, disappearing in a smoke of punches, kicks, and a lot of profanity.

Chibimerica giggled, while Revolutionary watched them and sighed, shaking his head.

"Idiots."

* * *

**Huh, this came out…fluffier than I expected (not to mention longer)—at least near the end, I mean.**

**I guess that's why I added the Omake, so as to show that yes, there is also some tension between fem!England and Cowboy!America—it's just probably not as potent as the tension between her and Officer Jones.**

**Speaking of which: OH MY GOD at shy!Cowboy!America!**

**You must be wondering why I made him shy and all gentleman-like. Well, I'll be honest, I know as much as you, I swear. Really, this came about when I read in passing that Cowboys were the American equivalent of a Victorian gentleman when it came to etiquette towards ladies. Somehow, from that, he ended up with a shy, cute personality.**

**And I'm not sure, but I think that endears fem!England's pirate side—so that probably explains why she acted all seductive in the first Omake.**

**Translations:**

**Sacre bleu: an old French phrase, usually cried out in anger and surprise**

**Dieu merci: French for "Thank God"**

**Bendito: literally "blessed", I believe; a Spanish word that's used to describe someone or something happening**

**Mi dulce de tomate: "My sweet tomato" XD**

**Dummkopf (Thanks again, Flocon de Neige!): German for idiot, I believe. (And yes, I hinted at PruCan! Because the pairing is my guilty pleasure. :D)**

**If I'm wrong, please let me know!**


	4. Third Kiss Pt 1

**A/N: So, here it is: Revolutionary America's finest hour…! Probably….I dunno, it really depends, I guess…**

**I have to admit, this was the most difficult chapter to write—simply because I wasn't sure how to write out the interaction between Rev and Lizzie. I mean, one minute it would be this scenario, then that; my mind was a mess.**

**But I'm sure I've got it right this time, though. Yeah, it's split up into two parts, because—God damn it, this alone was almost twenty pages! Who knows how long the next part's gonna be...**

**Hopefully, though, it'll be enough until I get the next one out.**

**So, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Third Kiss (Part 1)**

_It was evening, yet the rain continued to fall on him in heavy drops, the cold water soaking through the hood of his blue sweater and freezing his body to the point that it felt like needles were prickling his skin. _

_Despite this, however, the boy didn't move from his spot on the wooden bench. He hadn't joined the other people in the park, who had promptly run with their children for the nearest shelter the minute the storm began that late afternoon. Some of those people had paused and stared at him, yet they hadn't asked questions. They had just assumed that he didn't care…_

"_**I will not allow it!"**_

_Dull blue eyes stared down at the saturated grass, yet unseeing as the teenage boy blinked slowly._

"…_**Why?"**_

…_They were probably right._

* * *

Somehow, as she stared at the television with bored green eyes, Lizzie found that she wasn't surprised that this was happening.

"What the _fuck_?"

"That pipe came outta nowhere!"

…Nope, not surprised at all.

She glanced at Officer Jones, who sat on her right, glaring at the telly as if he wanted to shoot it, and yet he was also leaning close to Lizzie's side with his hand twitching closer to hers, as if to hold it. Then Lizzie glanced at Cowboy on her left, who, in contrast, was clinging to her arm and hugging his trembling body close to her, his chin on her shoulder as his wide blue eyes took in the horror film, which had just started. As the woman on screen awoke in the hospital, and started running down the seemingly empty hall to escape the foreboding darkness behind her, Cowboy promptly buried his ashen face in her neck and let out muffled whimpers that (despite her frown) made Lizzie's heart ache somewhat. Blushing lightly, she hesitantly leaned her cheek against his head and tried to comfort him by nuzzling him slightly.

"Heh, s-she can't run," Officer Jones snickered, though the slight waver in his voice betrayed his underlying fear.

"She'd just lost her husband and her child, git," she replied, rolling her eyes slightly. "I highly doubt running properly is the first thing on her mind."

At that both Officer Jones and Cowboy America looked at her with wider eyes, their complexions taking on a green tinge.

"'Her child'?" Cowboy croaked. "Ya mean that cute little girl in the beginning? She _died_?"

"Y-you must be jokin', right, Lizzie," Officer Jones added. "I mean, this is a horror movie and everything, but…a little kid, whose not in the movie for about ten minutes…_you just don't do that_."

Lizzie felt a twinge of guilt at their reaction, despite finding the situation rather ironic, since there were plenty of American horror movies that featured dead children. Then again, America wasn't a huge fan of horror movies anyway (or, at least, the reaction he often got from watching them), so Cowboy and Officer Jones' reservations probably made sense.

As a response, she only nodded her head towards the telly, where the blonde woman was being cradled by her best friend as she loudly mourned her fresh loss. Both Cowboy and Officer Jones stared at the scene with stunned expressions on their faces.

"Well, shit," they both drawled in unison, and they sat back to unconsciously moved closer to Lizzie, who, despite how one of her thick eyebrows twitched with irritation, neither moved nor pushed them away.

The movie in question that they were watching was _The Descent_, which Elizabeth had chosen because it was one of the few horror films she was personally proud of, simply because the majority of the cast was British, or from the United Kingdom. Of course, there was also the combination of psychological horror with gore, as well as the theme of female empowerment, but mostly it was out of a sense of patriotism.

Naturally, both Cowboy and Officer Jones had jumped on the idea—albeit with some hesitance:

"_Miss Kirkland, are ya sure ya don't wanna watch somethin' else? Like one of those romances you seem to like so much…!"_

"_Naw, sugar, we're not afraid of some dark cave with weird creatures that can eat people whole, heh-heh…We just don't want ya gettin' nightmares, is all."_

_Yep, my brain pretty much cut them from the same gem as America, alright_, England thought to herself dryly, and then sighed. _Well, at least Chibimerica is sleeping. I wouldn't want to comfort three traumatized America clones; that would just end in a huge headache._

_Wait a minute, three?_

"Where's Revolutionary?" Lizzie asked, turning her head side to side to look for the teen.

"He's probably just hanging around somewhere," Cowboy shrugged, his eyes unmoving from the screen as the women began their journey to the cave.

At the look on her face, Officer Jones smiled reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry 'bout it so much if I were you. He'll show up."

Lizzie blinked, and then scoffed, her cheeks tinting pink. "I-I wasn't worried. It's just that it's raining, and I don't want to be stuck taking care of that git when he gets sick."

"But Lizzie, we're based off America," the policeman replied with a knowing smirk. "We can't get sick."

"Oh, j-just sod off and watch the movie!"

With flushing cheeks, she turned her head away to watch the movie, but the truth of the matter was that she couldn't focus on it. There was too much on her mind, a lot of thoughts that have been haunting her for a while now.

One was the fact that America's clones had yet to go away. Granted, she wasn't as eager to get rid of them as she had been previously, but that didn't mean that she wanted them to stay here forever. After all, Lizzie was certain that it was only a matter of time before someone found out about them, and she had a feeling that when that happened, there would be chaos. The second was her feelings towards the clones, as well as the fact that she continued to question her morals behind them. True, her love for Chibimerica was definitely innocent—but between the…_awkwardness_ (I know you're tired of that word being constantly mentioned, but hang in there) with Officer Jones and the playful flirting with Cowboy, a small voice in the back of her head would always cry out: _What about America_?

Now, just to clarify, the presence of the clones hadn't diminished England's feelings for America. Actually, if one really wanted to know the truth, her longing for him (no matter how much she denied it) had gotten worse.

Because, let's face it, a cowboy and police version of America just screamed "kinky"—so it really shouldn't surprise you that Elizabeth began to have daydreams about America in such garbs.

Like that time a few days ago, when she'd gone to that World Meeting in France. As usual, when his turn came up, America had rambled on and on about a nonsensical plan that was either too expensive or too logically impossible to work, and proclaiming loudly how much of a "hero" he was being. Needless to say, at that point in the meeting, instead of complaining loudly about his ideas, like she'd usually do, England had started to zone out until...

* * *

_When I opened my eyes, I quickly realized a few things wrong with this picture: one, I was wearing a nineteenth century dress that was emerald green and had long sleeves, along with a small top hat on my head. Two, I was standing in a dessert land consisting of tumbleweeds, cacti, and a too warm breeze._

_And three: I was backed against a tall rock formation, surrounded by a group of five men wearing dark Western style clothing, the metal from their guns glinting from their holsters._

_The man in the center leered, the dark beard on his face making him look more sinister._

"_Well, lookee what we got here, boys," he chuckled lowly. "A purdy little sheep that got separated from her flock. How sad…"_

_I swallowed harshly and then leaned back against the rock, as if to fuse with it. _

"_How much do ya think her family will pay to get her back?" A tall and thin man asked with a slimy smile._

"_Thousands, probably, from the way she's dressed," the first man, presumably the leader, replied._

"_Aw," a paler man whined, though the childish look in his eyes veiled a dark promise that made my stomach churn. "I wanted to play with her, though…"_

_He reached his hand out towards me, and my heart jumped._

"_Leave me alone, you lowly curs," I snapped, glaring at the men as heatedly as I could._

"_Ooh, an English lady," another man sneered. "Whatcha gonna do, redcoat? Tell yer Queen on us?"_

_At that, the men started moving in like wolves, and my panic got worse. I saw opening on the side and ran towards it, only to be pulled back by a strong grip on my wrist. A sour taste flooded my mouth._

"_Unhand me!" When they laughed, I growled and pulled back my free hand to punch my captor away. "I said…"_

_A shot rang out, shocking all of us, mostly because we realized that the hand that was on my wrist, upon releasing me, began to bleed._

"_Shit!" The owner of the hand cried as he held the wounded hand close to his chest. _

"_I believe the lady told you to let her go," a familiar voice drawled from behind the men._

_We all looked toward the source of the voice, to see a man just getting off of his horse. He was wearing an open dark brown duster with a glinting gold star on the breast, one that had a fifty engraved in its center, along with a brown hat that was tipped forward to hide his eyes. He walked toward us in an almost lazy manner, the spurs on his boots creating a foreboding sound—but as he got closer enough to recognize, I couldn't help the smile and flush that grew on my face._

"_Alfred!"_

_With the revolver in his hand, he tipped his hat back and greeted me with a smile and a wink._

"_Miss Kirkland," Alfred nodded._

_For a moment, my whole body fluttered pleasantly, as if there were little butterflies under my skin—and then I was suddenly grabbed and held to the leader's chest by one arm wrapping around my waist and a hand pressing a blade to my neck, making my blood run cold with fear. My eyes widened, just as Alfred's eyes narrowed behind glasses that glared in the sunlight. _

"_Let her go, sir," Alfred said—no, _demanded_, as he faced the gang._

"_Ya'll have to catch me first," the leader retorted with a smarmy grin. "Get 'im boys!"_

_With that said the man tossed me over his shoulder and carried me off like a sack of potatoes as he ran. I looked up to see the men surround Alfred, pulling out guns and knives, and my heart pounded with panic, especially when seeing that the git wasn't doing anything but take out his other gun from the holster around his waist._

"_Y-you idiot!" I screamed. "Run, you're outnumbered!"_

_He looked at me, and his blue eyes glinted with an emotion that made my face heat up, and he winked again._

"_Don't worry 'bout me, Lizzie," he reassured me. "I'll be right there to save you soon. Hero's honor!"_

_The blush on my face spread to the point that I was getting hot under my collar, but my color drained as my captor ran faster, leaving a battle ready Alfred as the last I saw of him._

_When I was finally over my stunned moment, my eyes narrowed. To bloody hell with this, I wasn't going to just sit here and be a damsel in distress!_

_With that thought, I lifted my arm and elbowed the man in the neck, making him gasp and release me. I fell to the ground, but then got up and began to run back—_

_Only to have the man wrap his arm around my torso and trap me again._

"_Ya little bitch," he wheezed into my ear. "I was gonna let ya live, but now ya've just pissed me off!"_

_I struggled furiously, trying to throw him off, but he was too strong. "Let me go!"_

_When the knife was pressed to my neck again, I froze, and then shut my eyes, bracing myself for a painful death…_

_**Bang!**_

_The body holding me went lax, and then fell over to the side. I blinked, stunned that I had escaped death for the second time that day, and then looked forward to see Alfred standing there with his gun drawn, his clothes stained with blood, and his frowning, determined face scratched—and yet, as the wind blew against his duster and his eyes glinted behind his glasses, my heart rate didn't fail to quicken._

_Of course, being me, I scoffed at him and crossed my arms. "It's about time, you git."_

_He smiled down at me, an eyebrow raised. "Were you worried?"_

"_O-o-of course not—i-it's just that you took so long to save me, and I was getting annoyed with waiting, and you were such an idiot to go up against those men in the first place, since they easily outnumbered you, and if you'd died, well, it wouldn't have been my fault, so there! But seriously, though, you're such a reckless…"_

_My rambling rant was interrupted when Alfred grabbed my arm and silenced me with his lips._

_For a moment, I was angry. I mean, how dare that Yank interrupt me with a kiss!_

_However, as my hand rose to smack him, Alfred wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against mine passionately. Before I could stop it, a soft moan of approval resounded from my throat and my eyes fluttered closed as both of my arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer._

_When we parted, I glared up at him with heated cheeks. "I'm still mad at you."_

_Alfred smirked. "I know." Then he leaned down and kissed me again._

_My mouth twitched to form into a goofy smile, but I pushed it down as I separated from him._

"_Just take me home, git," I snarked, flipping one of my pigtails over my shoulder._

_Alfred smiled and took my hand in his, bringing it up to brush his lips against my knuckles. The contact brought that fluttery feeling back and I was suddenly afraid of my legs giving out from underneath me._

"_It'd be an honor, ma'am," he said, staring at my red face from beneath his gold fringe._

_Somewhere deep inside of my mind, I was swooning—on the outside, however:_

"_Stupid yank!" I pulled my hand away, holding it as if it was burned. "D-don't do that!"_

_The blonde laughed and then whistled loudly, to which his horse quickly answered, since it was nearby. Alfred petted its head, and then lifted me from the ground and placed me on the saddle. Then he got on behind me and, with both arms around either side of me, took hold of the reins and clicked his teeth._

_When the horse started to move towards a far off horizon, where the sun was getting lower and lower, I instinctively grabbed onto the lapels of his coat and leaned onto his chest. Then I stared up at him, briefly observing Alfred in all his Western glory. _

_Honestly, this dream is nothing like the ones I once had when I was a younger country, where there had always been a charming prince on a white horse who would sweep me off my feet and ride us off into a sunset, but…_

_He's sort of a prince, albeit more coarse than anyone of royalty—but that's part of his charm, I suppose. And though the horse wasn't white, it was still strong enough to carry us both. _

_He also did rescue me, like a hero would…and we did kiss…_

_And we were riding off into a sunset, to top it off._

_I smiled softly and closed my eyes. I could get used to this…_

**Meanwhile:**

"England…?"

"…"

"Hello? England!"

"…"

"Lizzie?"

_Giggle._

"_Elizabeth!"_

England blinked out of her daydream to see the other countries staring at her, especially America, who scowled petulantly with his arms crossed over his chest. She stared back at them for a few awkward moments.

"Um, what were we talking about?"

Germany looked at England as if she'd grown a second head. "America had just finished his presentation on global warming…"

"Oh, right," England smiled sheepishly. "Um, bad idea, uh, you git."

A good portion of the room (you know, the ones who cared, in contrast to the others who had better things to do with their lives) experienced a jaw drop that was probably heard all around parts of the world (well, all things considering, it's probably not that far from the truth).

"_I-Inglaterra_, were you," Spain's eyes widened in shock, "_daydreaming_?"

England flushed with embarrassment and scowled. "What? N-no, of course not!"

France watched her reaction and grinned playfully. "Why, Angleterre, could it possibly have been about your secret lover?"

Her blush increased tenfold as she stood up and glared at him. "Absolutely not!"

_(Though, really, if you stop to think about it, it isn't a lie…)_

"That's right, we still haven't met this guy," Hungary smiled.

"She must be embarrassed, because the guy is just not awesome enough to be in my presence," Prussia added haughtily—making Canada, who was standing right next to him, roll his eyes with a smile.

England felt one of her eyebrows twitch as her hands twitched into fists. "Why bloody hell are you idiots so interested in my personal life?"

"Because we're bored," all of them replied dully.

Her eyebrow twitch worsened.

"You're dating someone, jerk England?" Sealand popped up from under the table.

"Damn it, Peter, what have I told you about sneaking into the meetings?" England glared at her little brother.

"Why can't you just accept me as a country?" Sealand pouted. "Besides I kind of want to know about your boyfriend. Granted, he can't possibly be that intelligent if he's with you, but I figure he can't be all bad…"

"Well, too bad then, because there's nothing you need to know about him!"

"So you are not denying this mystery man exists," France interjected teasingly, causing England to sputter for an answer.

_(Actually, try mystery _men_—who all resemble the guy I sort of lo-)_

"So, when _will_ we meet this guy, Iggy?"

England was about to snap at America (_My name isn't Iggy, damn it!_), but she froze when she saw his dazzling smile and carefree eyes. For a moment, she couldn't help but wish that he'd look at her the way he did in her daydream, or how Officer Jones and Cowboy America looked at her all the time…

Yet, she also couldn't help but feel guilty at the pleasure she felt whenever she was the center of the clones' attention. England knew that it was wrong of her, but their attention was like a drug to her. Flirting with Cowboy, having that tension with Officer Jones, and having the two of them look at her with such tenderness…

Sometimes, England could pretend that it was the real America looking at her that way.

"It's not…I mean, there isn't, uh, he…" England broke off, turning away with a shameful blush.

_But they can't replace the true high, can they?_

"J-just leave it alone, all right. It's none of your business, anyway…"

_Actually, it is—but I'm scared of what you might do if you find out._

Unknown to England, America observed her blushing, thoughtful expression, and his eyes softened. Frowning slightly, he glanced away for a contemplative moment, his cheeks tinting with pink.

Then his expression morphed back into a bright grin as he stepped in front of England and addressed the pesrtering countries.

"Alright, you assholes, I think the old woman's had enough." He waved them away flippantly. "C'mon, nothin' to see here, move along. Geez, you'd think no one in this room has ever dated anyone before."

Stunned, England stared at America's back as France (as well as the other teasing countries) pouted and moved back to their seats. She kept on staring until the young man turned around and grinned down at her playfully.

"And as for _you_, England," America said in a mock authoritative voice. "No more daydreaming about your Romeo while there's a meeting."

Still grinning, he leaned down slightly and started to poke her forehead with each syllable, "Pay. Attention. To. _Me~_."

England flushed, then glared as she slapped his hand away. "I was paying attention to you! Now, go finish your presentation."

"But my presentation's over. See, you weren't paying attention!"

"O-oh, well…j-just sod off, git!"

America just laughed.

* * *

There had been other daydreams after that, some of which going into the "Not Safe for Work" territory, but it was that daydream that caused Elizabeth to contemplate her situation more deeply than she had previously.

So, now, she was trying to avoid any heated interactions with either Officer Jones or Cowboy—which she found pretty difficult, as proven as the three of them continued to watch _The Descent_.

"The creatures are gonna eat 'em, the creatures are gonna eat 'em," Cowboy kept whimpering this mantra into Lizzie's shoulder.

"Damn it, when are they gonna show up?" Officer Jones' eyes lit up with a paranoid look as he hugged himself closer to her other side, propping his chin on her shoulder.

Lizzie sighed. "They have to go across that huge gap first, and then it won't be long after that…"

To be honest, this was one of her favorite parts. It was the part after the cave in, when the women had to get to the other side in order to search for an exit. In order to do so, they had to set up their equipment on the ceiling of the cave, relying on only their strength as they clicked in the metal loops the rope had to go through. The scene built up on tension, giving the viewer the certainty that at least one of the spelunkers were going to die that way (which one of them did, but later in the film). It also put a focus (albeit minor) on the tension between the women in general, more specifically, between the characters Juno and Sarah.

Just as she was about to fully enjoy the scene, Lizzie felt warm breathing go down her neck. She looked at both America clones, and then her left eyebrow twitched. (That seems to happen a lot with her, huh?)

"Are you two looking down my shirt?"

Cowboy America blushed heatedly. "N-no-!"

"Yes."

Both Cowboy and Lizzie glared at Officer Jones, who didn't move from his spot on the British girl's shoulder.

"Hey, I don't know about you," he regarded them calmly before glancing back down. "But doing this calms me down."

Cowboy blinked, and then he also glanced down Lizzie's shirt again, much to her chagrin. He smiled slightly.

"Heh, you're right. I do feel a little calmer."

"See, I told you."

The twitch of Lizzie's eyebrows got worse, her face growing bright red.

Then she drew her arms up and promptly dug her elbows in both Americas, causing both clones to collapse on the sofa and grasp their guts in pain.

"Dang it!" Cowboy cried out.

"Shit!" Officer Jones hissed.

Freed from their grasp, Lizzie stood up from the couch and walked out of the living room.

"I'm going to go out for a bit, alright," she said as she got her coat from the closet, along with an umbrella. "Try not to kill each other."

Despite his pain, Officer Jones smirked at her as she opened the door. "Shouldn't you be worried about that when you find Rev?"

Lizzie blushed and glared back at him. "P-piss off!"

And with a slam of the door, Elizabeth was out in the rain, begrudgingly searching for the teenage America.

Back inside, Cowboy America looked at Officer Jones with a worried expression.

"Sheriff, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"To be honest, probably not…but those two need it anyway."

* * *

As she walked down the wet streets, England focused her thoughts on Revolutionary America. In the past, she'd found out that she could practically find anyone if she was thinking about them, especially if they had been close to her in some way. It didn't matter what direction she went, her feet would always lead her to that person. It was a sort of magic that was borderline psychic, and it was something that Lizzie rarely used, because sometimes one with her power didn't want to find the one they were thinking about.

Such as Russia, for example.

Lizzie shuddered at the memory. Granted, the experience hadn't really been _that _traumatizing, but…

_Right, focus on Revolutionary America…_

Ah, Revolutionary America—probably one of the more complex of the clones in her household. He was the only clone who actually showed open hostility towards Lizzie, which she often returned with scathing remarks of her own. He would always criticize her cooking, call her "old woman", and his blue eyes would always burn with something that Lizzie was certain was hatred. He was rebellious, rude, and he seemed to like starting fights with his "brothers"…especially Chibimerica, for some odd reason.

In a way, he reminded England of how America had acted at that age. In fact, she was suspect to say that there wasn't really a difference between the two.

Except for one thing, Lizzie realized as she heard the patter of the rain on her umbrella—and she couldn't help but feel something akin to worry coil in her stomach.

There was only one moment where Revolutionary was silent, and that was usually when it rained—and since that happened a lot in her home, England had often caught his reactions first hand.

Such as yesterday, when the first wave of the storm hit: all of the other Americas didn't really react to it. They just played an old version of "Clue" and spent their afternoon trying to prove whether Miss Scarlet was the culprit or not.

Revolutionary was the only one who didn't play. Actually, if Lizzie remembered correctly, the teenage boy had just stood stock still in front of a window, watching the rain fall with this odd look in his eyes…

She shuddered slightly at the memory of those dead eyes, sky blue eyes that were usually full of some sort of fire and passion. They hadn't looked natural, not on America, and, despite the fact that her and Rev didn't get along well, Lizzie couldn't help but feel an ache in her chest when she saw him like that. She had wanted to help him somehow, to try to take whatever was causing him sorrow and defeat it, as if it were the imaginary monsters that had often plagued Chibimerica's nightmares.

_Because America (whether clone or not) should never, ever look like that_, she remembered thinking.

Of course, Lizzie being Lizzie, she couldn't have just voiced her concern:

"_Oi, git!" _

_Lizzie smacked the boy upside the head, immediately getting his attention. Rev blinked and looked at her, the dullness in his eyes lighting up a little._

"_Help me with the dishes," she nodded towards the kitchen._

_The America lookalike blinked for a few bemused moments—and then he scowled, his eyes lighting up again, much to Lizzie's secret relief._

"_Tch, stupid old woman," he clicked his teeth, his hands fisted in his pockets. "Can't even do the dishes herself…"_

"_Oh, please. It's not like you're doing anything right now! So hurry up, got it!"_

"_Yeah, yeah…" He muttered under his breath as he stepped into the kitchen._

England was brought from her flashback when she realized she was in a park. She hummed softly and turned her head side to side, until she saw him just a few feet away, sitting on a park bench.

Though she felt relieved, Lizzie puffed out her cheeks and stomped toward Revolutionary.

"And just what the hell do you think you're doing out here?"

Rev blinked and stared up at her with those same unnerving eyes. Lizzie flinched inwardly at the stare as she propped one hand on her waist in an authoritative manner.

"Don't get the wrong idea, I was just going for a walk." She turned her head; nose high up in the air. "But since you're here, I _might_ as well take you home."

From beneath the blue hood, Rev's eyes blinked back to life and he scowled.

"Tch, I don't need your help, anyway, old woman," he scoffed, even as he stood up. "I can get home on my own."

"Yeah, well, I'm here anyway, so you might as well accept the help already."

As if to prove her point, Lizzie shoved her umbrella over Rev's head, not minding that the rain was quickly drenching her. She was already used to it anyway.

Rev glared at the umbrella, then at her. "You idiot, use your umbrella for yourself. You could get sick."

Lizzie flushed. "I'll use my umbrella however I want, git! And I won't get sick; my 'old age' hasn't made me a weakling, like you!"

His eyebrow twitched. "Dumbass, we might as well just share the damn thing then! And I'm no weaker against rain than you are, in that case. I can't get sick, remember?"

Her eyebrow also twitched. "Fine, we'll share."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

As if to challenge each other, the two of them stepped under the umbrella, even though they were both soaked at this point. They stared at each other for a moment, Rev down at Lizzie, and Lizzie up at Rev (who wasn't as tall or muscular as the real America or Officer Jones, but was slowly getting there)—and then they btoh turned away, their cheeks red.

"D-don't get the wrong idea, lady!" Rev stammered. "That whole stupid, lovey-dovey, Japanese tradition has nothing with this!"

"I didn't think that anyway," Lizzie scoffed, haughtily tossing one of her pigtails over her shoulder.

"Well, fine, then!"

"We already did the 'fine' thing!"

"Well, _great_, then!"

"Fantastic!"

"Good!"

"Magnificent!"

"Awesome!"

Thunder clapped roughly in the sky, almost pointedly down at them. Rev instinctively flinched staring upward with a hint of paranoia, while Lizzie blushed slightly.

"L-let's just go home, git," she said.

"…Yeah, okay."

* * *

The next day, it was a beautiful sunny day.

"AH-CHOO!"

And Lizzie felt like she wanted to die.

As she lay on her bed, her head burning and aching, she could distinctly hear the headache inducing yelling outside her door.

"…What do you mean, it's my fault!"

"How is it not your fault, you punk ass idiot!"

"Chibimerica, don't cu-" Before she could properly scold Chibimerica, Lizzie burst out into a painful row of coughs that made her sink back against her pillow.

When it passed, leaving her breathing raggedly with her eyes closed, Officer Jones (who was sitting next to her bed) leaned over and put a damp cloth on her forehead, his eyes full of worry.

"Easy there, sugar," he said softly. "Don't stress yourself."

Humming slightly, she smiled up at him with weary green eyes. "I love it when you call me that…"

Officer Jones smiled slightly and he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, tenderly stroking her warm cheek in the process. Lizzie let out a soft keening sound and her eyes fluttered closed. After a few moments, her breathing got softer and softer, indicating that she was drifting off. For a few moments, he took the time to observe her with a gentle expression, his thumb still stroking her cheek.

"Seriously, though, Rev," Cowboy drawled from outside the room, "couldn't you have at least given her most of the umbrella to share?"

"I already told you guys," Rev retorted exasperatedly. "She's the one who insisted to cover me most of the time! I told her I wouldn't need it, but…"

"You still should have tried harder!" Chibimerica glared up at him heatedly.

Hearing the loud exchange escalate, Officer Jones sighed and stood up from his seat. He walked out of the room, gently closing the door, and then faced his fellow Americas.

"Hey," he said to get their attention. "If y'all are done arguing like a bunch of idiots, you may wanna know that Lizzie just might have fallen asleep."

Chibimerica looked up at him, his bottom lip trembling. "Is Engwand okay?"

"Well, she's got a fever and a sore throat, from the looks of it," he scratched the back of his head. "But I don't think it's really dangerous. Just a little cold, is all."

"What are we gonna do about it?" Cowboy asked worriedly.

Officer Jones hummed contemplatively, cupping his chin with his fingers. "Well, putting a doughnut on her head certainly didn't work…"

"What made you think it would?" Revolutionary interrupted furiously.

"—So, I guess we'll just have to go out and get the medicine ourselves," the older clone finished, as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"But we can't leave Lizzie alone," Cowboy said.

"I know, which is why Revolutionary is gonna stay and take care of her until we get back."

"WHAT?" Chibimerica and Revolutionary shouted.

"Hey, not so loud," Officer Jones hissed, nodding towards Lizzie's room.

"Are you insane?" Chibimerica glared at him, his voice a soft hiss. "You can't leave him alone with her!"

"Yeah, I hate to admit it, but the brat's right," Rev said, "I don't know how to take care of anybody. Hell, I barely know what a cold is!"

"Oh, don't worry 'bout it. All you have to do is give her fluids, and try to keep her head cool until we get medicine."

"If anything, you can give her some headache pills also," Cowboy added. "They seem to work for a bit…"

"You guys don't get it, do you!" Chibimerica narrowed his eyes with a snarl, much to the shock of the Americas, who, at this point, were used to seeing the little one act all happy and innocent, overall harmless (with the exception of his super strength, but he never used it for malevolent means). The little boy growled and pointed at Revolutionary America accusingly.

"_He'll make her cry again!"_

For a few stunned moments, Rev just stared down at the kid, his blue eyes wide.

Then he glared down at him, a bitter scowl on his face.

"You just won't let that go, will you?"

"Never," Chibimerica replied venmously.

Cowboy and Officer Jones watched the tension between the younger clones, the former looking a little scared and uncomfortable, while the latter just looked annoyed.

The policeman sighed and stepped in between the two boys, staring at them both sternly.

"Now, listen here, I just want Lizzie to get better," he said. "And if I say Revolutionary has to stay in order for it to happen, then you two better damn well do what I say."

"B-but-hey!" Chibimerica was interrupted as he was picked up and tossed over Officer Jones' shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Come on, Cowboy," the eldest clone said as he went downstairs.

"Right." Before he followed him, though, Cowboy looked at Revolutionary, who stared intently at the floor. He smiled slightly at him and patted his shoulder to comfort him.

"Don't worry 'bout it, okay?"

Rev didn't look up. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he answered dully.

Cowboy gently squeezed the teen's shoulder, and then went downstairs to join Officer Jones and Chibimerica outside, where the two clones were arguing.

"How could you do that?" The youngest America shouted, staring up at the man with a look of betrayal.

"It's what needs to be done," Officer Jones answered serenely.

The child's lip trembled as his eyes watered angrily. "But he'll make her cry again…"

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do—it didn't stop him the last time."

Cowboy America smiled sadly, interjecting, "In that case, then we're all guilty, aren't we pilgrim."

Chibimerica gasped softly, and then he stared down at his feet, grasping his chest as if in pain.

Officer Jones glanced up at the house, his blue eyes smoldering.

_Don't fuck this up, kid._

* * *

**Oh, my God, the suspense!**

…**Psh, nah, not really.**

**Next part should come up soon, as soon as I find the time. College just started up again…**

**On a more cheerful note, though: Isn't Tsundere!Revolutionary!America just the cutest thing you've ever read? ^_^**


End file.
